


Decalopod

by FreelanceMem



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Emotions, Explicit Sexual Content, Lots of plot, M/M, Monster Mashing, Multi, Other, some porn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 15:56:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 81,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23312050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreelanceMem/pseuds/FreelanceMem
Summary: Hamish feels like half the man he was. At least, half the human he was. The other half of him looks like it has just been replaced by too many appendages. All of them want to touch everything and everybody. Not to mention how much he wants to do everybody.Even in his condition, Hamish is the kind of man who wants to get along with everyone. While violent by mercenary nature, his big heart reaches out to those around him, including those less fortunate in the department of experimentation.(This story was initially posted as "Demalopod" but I had some issues and took it down some months ago. I am reposting it because I have edited it and I am continuing the story.)
Relationships: Demoman/Scout, Demoman/Spy
Comments: 28
Kudos: 8





	1. Being Strange

Hamish barely remembered what happened. Not many of them said much about anything, but for Hamish it was like nothing happened, but clearly something had happened. He was certainly not at his old base anymore. And though being drunk could make him off at times, there was no way he was imagining the things that happened to these other people.

He never met them before. He probably would never have met them if they were not brought together like this. Of all of them, Medic was probably the most normal, having no outward appearance of alterations. He never met the man before, but he wish he had. In better circumstances, he felt they might have hit it off. They would have been great…back when he had legs.

Most days, Hamish was asleep, healing from the wounds and recovering from whatever happened. Today he was feeling restless and awake. Without much to do, he found himself hanging out where he could watch the Medic work.

The man seemed to be on the brink of some sort of discovery. He sounded excited, but Hamish did not understand German, so he could not tell what it was about. All he knew was that it was good.

The double doors burst open and the Scout came stomping in. “Hey doc! I got a-” he froze mid-sentence, eyes turned to Hamish.

They had not formally met yet. The Scout had apparently been there longer than Hamish. Hamish was usually resting when the Scout came by though, so they rarely saw each other. So far, the Scout had yet to glimpse Hamish. Now he could see him, clear as day, with his elbows propped up on the rim and the rest of him visible through the glass.

“D-doc?” the Scout’s voice trembled.

The Medic spun around, then looked from Scout to Hamish. He gave a scoff, “Honestly Scout! Look at yourself. You look like you do, and you’re judging _him_?”

There were a few moments of silence as the Scout looked from the Medic to Hamish and back again. Hamish felt rather awkward and was not sure what he could say to dissolve the situation. He just remained still and quiet to let the Medic handle things.

“He’s just…” the Scout turned to the Medic, “Sitting up there, staring.”

“Maybe he thinks you look absurd,” the Medic gestured to the Scout.

Hamish took one look at the man and burst into laughter. He held tight to the edge of the glass, so as not to slip back into the water. He needed air to laugh like this. Scout just stared at him with big eyes, big perked canine ears standing on end and a long canine tail with hairs standing on end. He was the most ridiculous mix mash of animal type parts put on a human that Hamish had ever seen.

The Scout’s ears laid back against his head. He grit his teeth and let out a growl. It was loud and feral, most closely resembling something like a wolf, almost a bear.

“Scout, remember when you first got here?” the Medic asked.

Scout’s head whipped around to look at the Medic. Medic was silent, gesturing for the Scout to move closer. Finally the Scout calmed down and moved closer to the Medic to talk.

“Doc, I got a…thing…in my tail…” the Scout sounded a little pained.

“A thing?” the Medic tilted his head curiously.

“You know…it’s gotten under the skin,” Scout explained.

“What has gotten under your skin?” the Medic asked in a tone of panic.

“A thing!” Scout exclaimed.

“Come, let’s have a look,” the Medic took his arm and led him to the inspection table.

It had recently been moved closer to the tank, which allowed Hamish to climb out and be looked at by the doctor. It had since permitted him to see the others who came to be seen, quietly watching from a hidden area of his tank. He watched only out of curiosity of course, not out of some creepy reason.

Scout laid belly down on the table. He pointed on his table where the pain was and the doctor started sifting through his fur. The doctor’s face dropped and he frowned at the Scout’s head.

“You have a thing in your fur,” the Medic told him.

“That’s what I said! I said I got a thing in my tail!” the Scout exclaimed.

“You said it was under your skin,” the Medic said, with a clear irritation in his tone.

“I said it was in my tail!” the Scout whined.

Medic sighed, “Fine, I’ll get it out.”

He went to a cupboard to assemble something. Hamish took this chance to drop down into the water. He moved a little closer to the table, curious to see the afflicted Scout up close for the first time. Scout’s eyes widened when he saw him, so Hamish waved to seem friendly. Scout still seemed nerve wracked by this, but he waved in return.

“There we go,” Hamish could barely hear anything from inside of water. He could see the Medic bringing an electric razor though.

With Scout’s attention on Hamish, he did not notice what was happening until the razor was turned on and started removing hair. “Hey! Wait!” the Scout exclaimed.

“Done!” the Medic announced, holding up the _thing_ that had been annoying the Scout.

Hamish pushed himself up, rising to the top of the water. He lifted his torso onto the edge of the glass to look over, “That’s called a burr, lad!” He let out a laugh as the Scout jumped in surprise.

“Doc…you took out a whole chunk of hair!” Scout clutched at his tail, staring at the now bald spot.

“Well, that’s that,” the Medic tossed the hair in a garbage bin, “Is that all?”

The Scout nodded slowly before sauntering out of the infirmary. Once the doors shut, it became very quiet, leaving Hamish and the Medic in a very odd place. Medic did not seem to know what he was meant to do next. He looked up to Hamish curiously.

“You’re quite alert today,” Medic commented.

Hamish offered him a smile, “I’m feeling better today, doc. And frankly, a bit restless.”

“Ah,” the Medic looked down from Hamish to the tank itself, “You’ve been cooped up for a long time now. You’ve been here for almost three weeks.”

“Has it been that long?” Hamish asked.

Medic nodded, “You haven’t kept track of time?”

Hamish shrugged, “It’s…hard to tell. I sleep so much nowadays…I’m not sure when day ends and night begins.”

“I see,” the Medic nodded, “Maybe we should arrange for you to be outside at times.”

“I could just walk out,” Hamish shrugged, “No special arrangements needed. I feel pretty good today anyways.”

“No!” the Medic exclaimed. Hamish was taken aback, waiting for the man to explain. “We still don’t fully understand your…”

Medic gestured to Hamish, who looked down at himself. His torso was hanging over the edge of the glass, with ten long orange-red tentacles either relaxed in the water or clung to the glass surface. Of course he was not unaware of how unsightly he looked or how strange he was compared to every other mercenary brought into this man’s care.

“I get it,” Hamish rolled his eye, “My body is weird.”

“Your physiology,” the Medic sounded like he was correcting Hamish, “Is honestly fascinating. But, I have yet to be sure of how it works. You may well hurt yourself walking so far on dry land.”

Hamish sighed, “The book said that cephalopods breathe with gills that work with the…with the water, right?” He gestured to the doctor’s small library where he knew the man had stashed a new book away.

Medic knew what he was talking about and sprung into action, rushing to grab the book. He had gotten the book after Hamish came in as a patient. Knowing nothing about cephalopods before this, he needed a crash course in everything. Though, after a bit of reading, Hamish was not convinced that he was _that much_ cephalopod. He was still human after all, and one thing he still did like a human was breathe air.

“It says octopuses can walk on land for short periods of time,” he explained.

“Yes, short periods of time,” the Medic put emphasis on these words as he flipped through the book. He was probably trying to find some piece of information that would warrant Hamish not leaving his tank for long.

“That’s because they need to breathe. They need moisture. They need to take oxygen from the ocean,” Hamish went on, trying to remember exactly what he had read. It was a bit fuzzy but he understood the gist of how an octopus worked. “I don’t. I have bona fide human lungs!”

The Medic frowned at him, “And what if you’re wrong? Hmm? What if you get out of there, get halfway down the hall and collapse because it’s too dry?”

Hamish laughed, “It’s my body. I’ll be the fool who pays the price for it.”

The medic tightened his lips, “I don’t think it’s a good idea.’

“Doc, listen,” Hamish pleaded with him to understand. He knew he could just jump out and leave on his own. He was capable of doing that, but he did not want the Medic to put up a fight. “If an alcoholic needed a drink, would you refuse him just because his liver _might_ fail?”

The Medic opened his mouth to speak. His jaw clicked closed and he looked down at his book. There was a long silence as Hamish waited for him to say something.

“Alright,” the Medic finally said, “Fine. I’ll make sure you don’t hurt yourself while you go gallivanting through the facility.”

Hamish grinned from ear to ear. He pulled himself up onto the edge, carefully climbing down the other. He was still a bit afraid of the steep edge, but he had practiced enough since getting here. He dropped down onto the examination table, the way he would if he was getting a checkup. He proceeded to climb off the table and head to the door. At least, he sort of crawled to the door.

Medic strode up to the door to open it. He held it open as Hamish crawled past him. He suddenly realized how awkward this was now. Medic towered over him on two legs, easily walking along like this was nothing. Meanwhile, he worked with ten tentacles that felt everything around them. It was impossible for him to stop feeling for everything he reached for, getting a better idea of how smooth, rough or even soft the environment around him was.

Medic followed him closely at a slow pace. Hamish did not feel the need to look for him or check on him. He could hear the man’s boots click against the concrete floor. The slow clip clop was enough to satisfy any curiosity about the Medic’s location.

He was startled when he heard much louder feet coming from down the hall. He flinched as the noise came towards them, stomping in a quick and rhythmic pace. He was not sure why but he wanted to turn and run away. His heart began to race and he was not breathing enough. He turned and tried to rush back towards the infirmary doors. He was logically aware that if Medic’s pace next to him was slow, whatever was coming could outrun him.

“Halt!” a robotic voice barked.

Hamish turned slowly to look. He was surprised to see that it was addressing the Medic, who had planted himself in its route. He glared at the soldier bot, meeting its glowing red eyes.

A click came from the robot and a human voice came through, “Hey doc. What’s with the disruption of unit five-five-seven’s route?”

The medic glared sternly, “Your bot is almost crushing my patient. The noise is freaking him out too. Put it on pause while we pass by!”

“Just let it get on its way, doc,” the voice came through so clearly.

“No,” Medic said sternly.

“No?” the voice on the speaker sounded perplexed.

The Medic folded his arms, “You were given _permission_ to run your bots in this place. You still answer to those who actually run this facility. Pause your bot so one patient can go past.”

“That’s absurd! My bot can just walk by and it won’t be a bother,” the man on speaker insisted. Then, the bot tried to step around the Medic.

Medic responded by stepping in its way, “You were told to stop.”

“Now you’re just being unreasonable,” the voice on the speaker said impatiently.

“Perhaps,” the Medic said, holding his head a bit high, “But you’ve been unreasonable beyond reason. And it’s about time you see how irritating it can be to deal with some stubborn idiot who won’t just-”

Hamish did not listen anymore. He did not want to get involved in whatever this was. He just wanted to get out, but now he was tired again. Heart pounding and his lungs desperate for air, he slipped into the infirmary and limped into his tank. He slipped into the air bubble, the little pocket area where he could lay down and stay wet while still being able to breathe. He relaxed there, waiting for his heart to slow down and his shaking limbs to stop.

He did not want to get out of that pocket anymore. He did not want to leave his tank. He just wanted to close his eye and sleep away the stress. If he could just drift into dreamland, then everything could feel okay.


	2. Codename… Hamish?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hamish likes his own name. Why can't he use it?

Hamish was woken by his stomach growling. It was enough to get him to crawl out of his little air pocket and into the main tank. He started towards the upper edge when he caught sight of somebody strange sitting on the examination table. Curious, he drew closer. He peered through the glass, trying to put his thumb on what he was looking at.

Suddenly, the head turned and a giant bird-like face scree’d at him. Bubbles of air left him as a scream ripped from his throat. He quickly swam up to the surface, gasping for air in his panic. He grabbed the edge of the glass and climbed up high enough to get a better look at the creature. It got to its feet, staring up at him with big blinking eyes. Its head moved in inhuman jerks, trying to look at him with one eye.

“The hell are you?!” he exclaimed loudly.

Suddenly a door at the other side of the room burst open. A figure came barreling out with nothing on but what appeared to be feathers. Medic followed close behind, trying to catch the man with white robes.

“Get back here! Hold still!” Medic cried out.

“You will never catch me!” the man spread two appendages from his back. It took Hamish a moment to realize they were wings. The feathers were so sparse and they looked so abused, he was sure there was no chance for flight. “I am a free bird!” the man proclaimed, pounding fists on his chest.

“Don’t just stand there!” Medic barked at the bird headed thing, “Help me catch him!”

The creature jumped into action, trying to catch the naked man with wings on his back. They ran around the infirmary a few times. Medic ended up stopping at the doors to prevent him from leaving. He kept his stance wide so he could not be tackled either.

“Dammit!” Medic had a flustered red look on his face.

Hamish watched for a bit, but it started to get annoying. The only way he was getting breakfast was for Medic to get it for him. Medic clearly would not be doing that until he had caught this insane bird man.

He balanced on top of the edge of the glass before lowering himself down. His arms strained as he held tightly to the edge. To his surprise, the ambush worked, as he dropped down on top of the crazy loon as he passed by. The crazy man tried to get away, so he wrapped his tentacles tightly around him, making sure he could not escape.

Medic rushed to the fray of fighting men. He peeled away tentacle after tentacle as he slipped the robe onto the crazy man. Eventually Hamish moved to the side, since Medic seemed to have him under control. He lashed the robe so that the man’s arms wrapped around himself in a hug. He breathed a sigh of relief and looked to the man with the bird head.

“Thank you for bringing him here,” he said, “This could have gotten very serious.”

“What the hell is his deal?” Hamish gestured to the man now wrapped up in a white robe.

“He stopped taking his medication,” the Medic sighed, “And then he took the wrong meds.”

The creature with the bird head pointed to itself. He was not sure what it meant though. Something about itself? The way it tilted its head insinuated that there was a question there.

“He took _his_ medication,” Medic gestured to the man tied up then to the creature with the bird head.

“Okay…uh…sorry for screaming earlier,” he offered a hand to the man with the bird head.

The bird headed man shook his hand. He was silent, but his head cocked. He moved jerkily with his head, looking so inhuman while the rest of his human body moved fluidly like a normal person would. It was as if part of his body was disconnected from the rest of it.

“Demoman, this is…Bird Soldier,” he gestured to the man with the crazy bird head, “And this is Soldier Bird.” He gestured to the man all tied up in the robe.

“Not to be rude,” Hamish held up a finger, “But one of those names is just the other name backwards.”

Medic chuckled, “They were both in similar experiments…practically reversed.”

The Bird Soldier clicked his beak at the Medic. He seemed to be trying to say something.

“I need to take him to an isolation ward for a while,” Medic said to the Bird Soldier, “Would you mind getting breakfast? He can’t get to the mess hall himself.” He gestured to Hamish who scoffed.

The Bird Soldier nodded and gave a salute. He rose to his feet, before offering a hand to Hamish. Hamish was not sure what the hand was for. A familiar memory said it was to help him up. Realistically he was as far up as he was going to get. He took the hand, since it was offered, and found himself hoisted up into the air. He yelped in surprise, caught just in time by the Bird Soldier’s arm.

“This is not going to work,” Hamish grumbled at him.

“Be more careful! He’s still going through healing and recovery! He’s barely been out of his tank!” the Medic scorned the Bird Soldier.

The Bird Soldier made a clattering sort of noise, before strolling out of the infirmary. While it was not the same as being able to walk around himself, it was a far cry better than being left in the infirmary. Finally he could see what went on outside of that stuffy place that smelled of cleaners and soaps. He was surprised by the sound of a bot coming their way, but the Bird Soldier ignored it, walking around the bot like it was just an annoyance. Hamish was glad that there was not another confrontation.

The Bird Soldier entered the mess hall and the place went silent. Hamish looked around to see a whole group of creatures gathered at the table. The only ones he really recognized were the Scout with canine features and a Sniper with weird scaly skin that turned red on the side of his head. They were all staring at Hamish and the Bird Soldier. Their eyes shifted between Bird Soldier’s face and Hamish under his arm.

Bird Soldier walked in and immediately set Hamish on the end of the bench. As he walked away, the surprised creature sitting next to Hamish leaped to his feet and scrambled to get away. Others shifted but did not move, unsure about what was happening. Only a few of them sitting close on his bench could see the tentacles going down from his hips.

“What the hell is that?!” the man who had leaped up was pointing at Hamish’s seat.

“I’m a black Scottish Cyclops, you halfwit!” he teased, grinning from ear to ear and pointing to his eye.

This was a very overwhelming experience already. It was the first time dealing with so much reaction to what he was now, what he had become. It was not like it was the first time he had ever dealt with somebody pointing out his handicap though. He still did get people pointing at his face, aghast that his eye was missing. Even with the covering of the eye patch, many people did not understand the difference between fake and real handicap. Nor did they seem to understand that one does not have a choice in the matter of such a handicap.

“I’ve got half as many eyeballs, but twice the vision! You must be drunk!” he threw his arm up dramatically. The laughter from some of the others lessened the tension in the air. Still, there were a few men who could see the tentacles and they looked a little worried.

“Not that!” the man barked at him, “That!” he pointed again to his seat.

“What? I can’t sit on the bench with ya?” he put on a mocking tone. He had no intention of leaving the bench if it made anybody else uncomfortable. He knew this was about his tentacles, but he would make this creature point it out for himself.

“But you’re…you’re…” the man looked to the others for help, “He’s a…”

“And look at yourself!” Hamish brought attention back to himself, “You’ve got ears and teeth so big, you might be a rabbit! So who the devil cares what I am?” That was when he realized that the man’s appearance did have rabbit-like features. His teeth were huge and the ears were fuzzy and looked like they had been cut by a tool.

“Is funny because is true!” a great big heavy laughed, beating a hand on the table.

“I’m a bit curious though,” a stout creature with horns on his head looked Hamish in the eye, “What _are_ you.”

“I told ya, didn’t I?” Hamish protested the inquiries, “I’m a black Scottish Cyclops.”

“But you’ve got tentacles for legs!” the rabbit-man standing pointed again.

“Oh!” he picked up a tentacle between two fingers. He let the muscles in it go limp, playing like it was not even part of him. “What do you know?”

They did not get a chance to say anything else before the Bird Soldier came back. They were fairly silent as he set a plate down in front of Hamish. He sat down across from him, causing the other bench to shift as they tried to move away from him.

“Can you not?” Hamish scorned them, “Man just wants to eat!”

There was silence on the room again as they returned to eating. The talk they had was in low murmurs, blurring together so that Hamish did not even care anymore. His stomach growled at him again, reminding him that he was hungry. He grabbed both the fork and the spoon and began shoveling his mouth full of food. There was no point in talking anyways, so he might as well just fill his belly.

“You eat fast!” the man who had been standing slowly climbed back into his seat.

Hamish paused to chew and swallow. He turned to the man, before cautiously shaking his hand. “Name’s Hamish,” he said.

The others suddenly went silent, with their heads turning to him. He was not sure what to make of those stares though. He was most spooked by seeing the Bird Soldier staring at him as well.

“What?” he shrugged defensively.

“Code names, mate,” a kangaroo-looking man leaned over the table to speak.

“I don’t have a code name,” Hamish protested, “Fine. Call me Demo then?”

There was silence and shared looks. The man next to him shrugged, “I mean, we don’t have a Demoman here. Not yet.”

“I’ll show you,” the inquisitive man across the table caught Hamish’s attention, “I’m Engie Bull.” He gestured to the man sitting next to Hamish. “That there’s Bunny Scout.” He gestured to the Bird Soldier. “This is Bird Soldier.”

“So just your class and whatever the fuck you resemble?” Hamish asked, a bit irritated at the insistence of this code name nonsense. They were all men with names, so why not use them?

“Maybe he needs help thinking of a name,” the Scout with canine ears spoke up.

“How about Tentabutt?” Bunny Scout laughed.

Before Hamish knew what was happening, he was scooped up under the Bird Soldier’s arm. The Bird Soldier grabbed his not yet finished plate of food and carried him back to the infirmary.

“Hey! What the hell? I was doing fine! Put me down!” Hamish wriggled in protest. The Bird Soldier did not let him go. “Put me down!”

Bird Soldier went on unperturbed, bringing him to the infirmary to sit him down in a chair. He handed the unfinished plate to Hamish. He accepted it because he was still hungry and at least grateful to be able to get the full meal.

Medic came in, looking around, “Oh, there you are.”

The Bird Soldier clicked at Medic. Hamish ignored the clicking as he wolfed down the rest of his food.

“He what?!” Medic exclaimed, “What did you do?” He marched over to stand in front of Hamish.

Hamish ignored him until he had the last bite in his mouth. He looked up at the Medic, a bit perplexed by the scornful parental look about him. He quickly finished chewing and swallowed.

“What?” he exclaimed defensively.

“What did you do?” Medic demanded.

“I didn’t do anything,” Hamish responded defensively.

“Bird Soldier said you gave your name?!” Medic demanded again.

“Oh…yea…we were meeting and greeting in the mess hall,” Hamish nodded.

“You’re not supposed to give out your name!” Medic exclaimed.

Hamish rolled his eye, “Ooh, one slip of the tongue. So sorry. Should have just said Demoman.”

“It’s…” Medic sighed in irritation, “We don’t use names here! It’s for protection of your identity!”

“Protection of my identity? Who the hell’s going to use the name Hamish against me?!” he went on, bewildered by the man’s logic.

Medic sighed, “Just this once, we’ll let it slide. After this, we need a code name for you.”

“Sure, a codename,” Hamish rolled his eye again.

For a few hours, he sat in his tank listening to the Medic talk about code names. He tried meshing ideas together, adding in things about octopus and such. He dismissed every name the Medic suggested, forcing him to go through the list twice until he ran out of ideas.

“You’re not very good at this, are you?” Hamish teased.

The Bird Soldier made a weird bird noise at the Medic. Medic shook his head, “We can’t just call him Demoman.”

“Why not?” Hamish harrumphed, “I’m the only one here.”

“That’s irrelevant,” Medic stamped a foot.

“Is somebody tired?” Hamish teased, “Did somebody forget to take his nap?”

“What? No! What? No,” the Medic shook his head.

“I think somebody’s getting cranky cause he hasn’t had his nap,” Hamish continued to tease him. It was fun to see him put more of a tantrum out at the teasing.

“Would you quit that! I’m trying to think!” the Medic exclaimed.

The Bird Soldier made a gurgling sound. His shoulders were shaking and the sound was weird. Hamish figured it must be laughter. He smiled, turning his attention back to Medic.

“I think somebody needs to go to beddy bye with his favorite blanky before he starts a tantrum,” Hamish wagged a finger at the Medic.

“I- you- Aaah!” the Medic stomped his foot and balled his hands into fists.

“Go take five and come back when you’re not so worked up over little code names,” Hamish told him, before dropping into the water. In here, he could not hear what was being said, he could only tell that the Medic was yelling.

Since he did not like holding his breath for so long, he went right into his little pocket. He slipped onto the makeshift bed and laid down. All of the exhaustion came crashing down on him. This tidal wave forced his eye shut, putting him right to sleep.


	3. Experimenting with Stimulation

When Hamish woke, he found the infirmary dark. It was the wee dim hours of the night. Everybody else must have been asleep. Hamish was restless, and tired of holding his breath under water. He wanted to be out of the water and somewhere more familiar.

As he climbed over the glass, he already formulated the idea of raiding the kitchen. He was a bit hungry, seeing as he apparently slept the day away. That was not uncommon for him, but he had previously woken up groggy, while he was now too bored to stay still.

Once on the floor, he made his way to the door. It creaked at first, giving him a start. He paused, unsure if anybody else could hear the door creaking. He put a finger to his lips then slowly opened the door, reminding himself to move quietly. He did not plan to disturb the Medic’s sleep, nor anybody else for that matter.

He crept out into the hall, quietly sneaking the way the Bird Soldier brought him before. When he reached the mess hall, he found that the door into the kitchen was locked. He frowned at that, finding it difficult to unlatch the door.

“Who the hell locks a kitchen?” he asked aloud, continuing to jiggle the door.

When the handle would not budge, he looked at his hands and tentacles. His hands felt stronger than the tentacles, but the delicate ends looked much smaller. In fact, he thought that maybe he could reach in and do something with the lock. Maybe it would be some useful power to him, allowing him to sneak around unnoticed.

Grinning with excitement for his new plan, he went to the table and dragged a bench towards the door. Once it was close enough, he crawled up onto it, propping himself so he was looking down on the handle rather than up at it. He tentatively poked the keyhole with his tentacle, before trying to slip in. At first the slippery digit slid in fine, but immediately it became sore and pained him from the sharp edges.

“Yeeow!” he exclaimed, dragging the tentacle out of the keyhole. He regretted it, as dragging it out so quickly caused more metal to scrape against the sensitive flesh.

He grabbed the tentacle in his hands to look at it. It was red and throbbing, swelling up like it was injured. It did not feel like the same kind of throbbing as an injury though. It was sensitive, but in a weird way. He could not put his finger on it, only seeing that this painful experience would _not_ be something he repeats in the future.

He was startled by wry chuckling nearby. He turned to see a Spy leaning against the wall nearby. He had not seen the man before. He must have snuck in when Hamish was distracted. That or he was under an invisible disguise before.

“That won’t work with your fat little…” the Spy looked at his tentacles, lost for the words.

“Uh…tentacles?” Hamish offered.

Spy nodded, “You would have an easier time with this.” He pulled out a lock pick, then joined him, easily opening the door.

“Thanks mate!” Hamish smiled at him, slipping down onto the ground to open the door and let himself in. The Spy started to leave, to Hamish’s surprise. “You’re not coming to the kitchen after opening it?” he asked.

“I was mostly curious at what was trying to get in,” the Spy turned back to him, addressing him with an amused smile, “It was amusing to watch you use it like a toy.” The corner of his lip along with other muscles in the man’s face twitched.

“Toy? I was just trying to get it unlocked,” Hamish stated, pushing the door open wider. It was a bit of a sore push to try and hold it with his tentacles, as they were nowhere near as strong as his arms.

“Yes, you were,” the Spy chuckled, “And it looked like it bit you instead of sucking you off.”

Hamish could feel how red his face was. Normally he would be amused at things, but the Spy had insinuated something he would never have considered. After all, these tentacles were the equivalent of legs. He needed them to move around, crawling down low where his arms could catch him if he lost balance or grew too tired. More than that, every single one of them was exposed and see by everyone here.

“It is merely a joke,” the Spy walked over to hold the door open, “After you.”

“Thanks,” Hamish smiled up at him, “You’re a far cry from what I would have expected.” He made his way across the kitchen to start looking. He had no clue where to look for anything, but he was hoping that maybe there would be a sip of something good to drink.

“Then I have done my job well,” the Spy said bemusedly. He was holding the door open and watching as Hamish scaled the counters. “I suppose our situations are different though?”

“Oh? How do ya mean?” Hamish did not really need it explained so much as he wanted it to be explained. The Spy had no clear evidence of experimentation, which left Hamish to believe there had been nothing. When he turned to the Spy again, the man was gone, leaving the door wide open, like it had been propped with something. “Spy?”

“Right here,” the Spy’s figure appeared in a rainbow of colors, before those colors settled on what he looked like before.

Hamish stared at him for a long while, not sure of what to say. It was a neat trick to disappear, but this disappearing act had no gadget or smoke to accompany it. It seemed to be the Spy’s own skin that had the power to change. A power like this would be superior to the gadgets most spies used, by miles.

“How’d you do that?” he asked.

“Like you I was the result of experimentation,” the Spy explained, “I’m Chameleon.”

“Nice to meet you, Chameleon,” Hamish said with a nod in greeting, “I’m the as of yet unnamed guy who happens to be a Demoman but also not really half octopus. I don’t think so anyways.”

“You don’t think so?” the Spy looked him up and down curiously.

“I mean, I look the part, but-” Hamish stopped when the Spy raised a hand.

“Most of us look like we’ve been spliced with different animals, but this is not the case,” Chameleon explained, “We were all experimented on. Some for intent of making us better mercenaries. Some…for some sick scientific curiosity.” The Spy did not need to explain it, because Hamish could tell which category he belonged in. For some reason, it made him feel mad. “Most definitely the majority of us were made with parts that make us look like we’re animals…or part animals…”

“You don’t look like an animal,” Hamish offered.

“Thank you, but more to the point,” Chameleon went on, “we might not _be_ animals, but it certainly helps to identify with some form of animal.”

“I see your case,” Hamish admitted, “But it’s still dumb. I’d prefer my own name.”

Chameleon chuckled, “Not a good idea.”

Hamish rolled his eye, “Yea, I know. For my identity’s safety.”

Hamish got back to searching again. He looked through cupboards, trying not to bother too many things. It was hard to look for things high up though. He almost knocked down a tub of what appeared to be flour.

“What exactly are you looking for?” Chameleon inquired.

“I was hoping to find a nip of something to drink,” Hamish explained, “But this place is drier than a desert!”

“You won’t find any in here,” Chameleon stated, “I don’t even think the Medic wants you drinking the stuff.”

Hamish let out a long sigh and a deflated moan. He had been so hopeful to get his hands on something. A little whiskey would have been nice. Maybe a bottle of beer to tide him over. He would even take wine if they had it.

“I just need a bit of something! Anything!” he whined, though he was fairly certain his pleas fell on deaf ears.

Chameleon chuckled again, a sly grin creeping across his face. Hamish studied the man’s expression curiously. He waited patiently for what the man had to say.

“I suppose I could share some of mine,” Chameleon turned like he was coming to leave, “If you would like some.”

Hamish could feel tears building up in his eyes, “You’d share with me?” He did not mean for his voice to sound so weak and desperate, but it was honest enough for how dearly he wanted a drink.

“Why not? You’re new here. You’re well-mannered. Most men who come here are already ready to tear at others’ throats. Forget speaking to them alone,” Chameleon grimaced.

Hamish climbed down from the counters and hurried out the door. He waited for Chameleon to close the door, so he could follow the man’s lead. They made their way together up the hall. Hamish was moving as quickly as he could, while the Spy tried to keep in step with him.

“So, you often catch new guys trying to break into the kitchen?” Hamish chuckled.

Chameleon shrugged, “On my nightly crawl perhaps. Everybody wants a bite to eat at night, but recent changes in the rules requires it to be locked.”

“You won’t get in trouble for that, will you?” Hamish winced.

“They won’t find anything gone, so nobody is going to check the cameras,” Chameleon explained, “We’ll be fine.”

Hamish breathed a sigh of relief. He was glad that he too was not going to get into any trouble for this. It would not be great to start stealing right after meeting the others. He had yet to even meet all of them, as he could only name a spare few.

“What _is_ this place, exactly?” Hamish inquired, “Why is it like this?”

“A lot of the way it is, is because the people higher up only provide the funds and supplies as long as we follow the rules. They get any scientific findings that Medic has, and we gain sanctuary,” Chameleon explained, “A trade off of sorts.”

“But what about this place? How is it…this? I haven’t heard any fighting going on,” Hamish pleaded for more information.

Chameleon nodded, “True. This is a sanctuary. It was previously used as a base for fighting. It was abandoned almost a decade ago, and later turned into Medic’s research facility. He has an empathetic personality, it makes him feel very vulnerable when he sees others suffering. Hence why you’re here.”

“Hence why I’m here?” Hamish blinked up at him, “I don’t understand what you mean.”

Chameleon shrugged, “Basically, of all the scientists in the world, this one is not the unkind sort who uses his space outside of the legal arms to do unethical experiments. Instead he has taken us in, to protect us from the mercenary life we would have had, and to help us.”

“Did he help you?” Hamish asked as they halted at a door.

Chameleon nodded, “Medic was kind enough to help me, yes. He was patient when everyone else was cruel. I didn’t immediately master what I can do now. I was far more vulnerable then…”

Hamish chuckled a bit, “I already knew I liked the guy.”

“Come,” Chameleon unlocked the door and held it open to admit Hamish, “I have a stash inside.”

Hamish did as he was told. He crawled across the room to a couch to sit down in. Chameleon went to a cupboard in the corner and came back with brandy and ice. He handed a glass to Hamish before sitting down in the lounge chair across from him. He relaxed with a comfortable sigh before sipping his drink.

Hamish just about downed the entire drink, thankful to wet his throat. He had forgotten that he had been out of water for some time, so it felt nice to touch something wet. Though, he was a little perturbed that he liked the wet that much now, when he previously enjoyed the summer’s dry heat.

“No one is to know of this,” Chameleon warned.

Hamish nodded in agreement, “I won’t tell a soul.”

“I’m serious,” Chameleon pressed, “None of them can know I have a stash of anything.”

Hamish nodded some more, “I understand. Nobody will know about it. Is it the rules?”

“No,” Chameleon admitted, “Medic won’t allow alcohol into the facility. One must go out and get their own. I don’t want to have every other man knocking on my door because they are thirsty. I am not _that_ kind.”

“Well,” Hamish lifted his now empty glass, “Thank you for the kindness of sharing now. I really needed this.”

“No problem,” Chameleon offered him a kind smile.

There was a long silence. Chameleon refilled Hamish’s glass and eventually his own. They drank quietly for a while, with nothing much to talk about.

“Would it be a bother to inquire about your…tentacles?” Chameleon asked, that last word an unfamiliar taste on his tongue.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Hamish agreed, “You shared something, I don’t have much else to share in return.”

Chameleon nodded, pausing to think about his words carefully, “The tentacles, do they feel like…legs?”

“Well,” Hamish shrugged, “Sort of? More like arms…if arms could bend in every way.”

Chameleon pulled off a glove and held out his hand, “May I?”

Hamish was hesitant at first, but eventually complied. He placed a tentacle into the man’s hand. It was immediately a different feeling. It was similar to his own hands of course, but it was not his own hands he was feeling. Medic always handled him with gloves and careful tools. He had never had his tentacles handled with such careful, warm, soft and comforting hands. He never even considered handling them this way with his own hands. He never thought about what the sensational reaction would be if he did handle them like this.

“Oh! This doesn’t hurt does it?!” Chameleon exclaimed. He opened his hand to release the tentacle, though it remained there. “It’s turning red!”

Hamish looked at it curiously. He did not notice it _at first_. Then it began to throb. The redness began to spread, swelling and throbbing all the way down. He took a sharp breath as an instinctive part of his brain finally recognized the sensation. He pulled the tentacle away, wishing he had not let the Spy touch him. It was too late though, and just as this tentacle had grown red and swollen, so did every tentacle. It felt like his body was burning on fire, and he had to try and catch his breath through the buzzing in his mind.

“Are you alright? Are you in pain? I didn’t mean to! I’ll get the doctor!” the Chameleon leaped to his feet in a panic.

“No! Don’t!” Hamish was not about to be shamed like this in front of the Medic, “Please don’t! I…sit down please…”

Chameleon hesitated, like he wanted to run to the door anyways. He slowly sat down, looking to Hamish with questions on his face. Hamish was not sure what to answer these questions with, considering half of them he could not answer, and the other half he just figured out now.

“Don’t…don’t freak out,” he pleaded.

“What is happening?” Chameleon demanded.

“Um…this has never happened before,” Hamish took another drink as he found his throat dry.

“Well?” Chameleon pressed.

“I think it’s…arousal,” Hamish was just about ready for the mockery. He kept up a façade pretty well in the past. Nobody had suspected the black guy with tattoos and thick muscles would be into men. Nobody suspected the Spanish Inquisition, much less the black Scottish Cyclops.

“Oh,” Chameleon relaxed in his chair, “I didn’t know that could happen. I apologize. You didn’t warn me.”

“I- it’s never happened before!” Hamish exclaimed.

“I see. I see,” Chameleon said tentatively.

Hamish was growing more relaxed as he realized that he was not about to be attacked for this, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean t- I mean, I’ve never. This is has never happened before. I don’t know how this works.”

“I don’t think this is how octopi work,” Chameleon added, “Octopi? Octopuses?”

“Both work,” Hamish said, recalling how the books had confused the Medic during his research.

“I apologize if I made you uncomfortable,” Chameleon said, touching a hand to his breast.

“Make _me_ uncomfortable? I was worried about making _you_ uncomfortable!” Hamish exclaimed.

Chameleon chuckled and it gave Hamish enough comfort to chuckle along with him. “I don’t mind it,” Chameleon said simply, “But it leaves question on what you need to do about it. Would a cold shower work?”

Hamish shrugged, “I don’t know, maybe. I usually swim in lukewarm water. I’m not sure what cold would do.”

“Right, Medic may have to be consulted about that before you’re submerged in cold waters,” Chameleon relented.

“If it’s all the same to you, could we keep all of tonight’s meeting between us? I would rather Medic did not know,” Hamish pleaded.

“Of course,” Chameleon nodded, “But um…are you going to be alright?”

Hamish downed the rest of the brandy and slipped off the couch, “I’ll be fine. I’ll just get out of your hair.”

“Wait,” Chameleon downed his own glass, then refilled it, “I have a thought.”

“What’s your thought?” Hamish inquired.

The Spy eyed him thoughtfully. Hamish had not noticed his eye color before. Probably because he did not pay attention to eyes much. But as he looked at those eyes, they changed colors. It sent a sudden chill up his spine.

“Are you adverse to me touching you?” Chameleon picked up his glass, holding it as he waited for the response.

“Well…no…” Hamish admitted, albeit a little hesitantly, “I got aroused from that very thing.” He chuckled at that thought, both amused at himself and embarrassed by it.

Chameleon downed the third glass of brandy, then set his cup down loudly, “If you would like it…then I would like to see if I can help you with that.”

Hamish blushed and bit his lip. He wanted to ask if it was true that he would like to do that. What came out was his attempt at humor and a laugh, “Didn’t know you had a thing for squids!”

Chameleon pursed his lips, then smiled, “Well, I’m not exactly turned on by them. Then again, I’ve never seen a man with tentacles. And you’re a man all the same. To me…if we met in another circumstance, perhaps I would be flirting and trying to find out if you would be into taking a man to your bed.”

Every part of Hamish’s body was burning. Oh the dirty lewd thoughts that came to mind. He might not have the parts anymore, but he wanted to shove something up into the Spy and make him cry out his name. It made his tentacles curl up, throbbing in heated need for touch and stimulation. He climbed back up onto the couch, and Chameleon came to sit next to him.

“You seem reluctant,” Chameleon eyed him thoughtfully.

“Not reluctant,” Hamish turned to face him, “Just taken aback by a man so forward. Where have you been all my life?”

Chameleon smiled at that and it was probably the one thing that helped Hamish relax. He let Chameleon pick a tentacle, taking it between his warm bare hands to rub and squeeze it. He chewed on his lip as he was stimulated. He watched Chameleon’s curious nature, finding the tentacle to be nothing like a penis, deft and able to wrap around the hands playing with it. Still, it was sensitive and every delicate way of touching it was a delight of its own. Hamish was in heaven like this.

“Not so fast! I only have two hands!” Chameleon startled him with a loud exclamation.

Hamish was surprised to find that while he wasn’t paying attention, he had wrapped eager tentacles around the man’s arms, as if they were begging to be touched. He quickly pulled them away, save for the one in his hands. “Sorry, I’m not used to this,” he said.

“Your tentacles are strong,” Chameleon noted.

“I uh…um…not very strong, not as strong as my arms anyways,” Hamish could feel his cheeks burning as he attempted to make small talk.

“Hmm…” the curious Spy took a moment to inspect the appendage he was playing with. Then he gave it a tentative lick. “Huh,” was the man’s response to what he tasted.

Hamish could not speak. He watched in stunned silence. This was pretty arousing, the more he thought of the tentacle as an erection. He could not have possibly gotten luckier than this man, and he was not sure if he would ever be this lucky again.

“I expected you would taste like salt water,” Chameleon explained.

“I…I have a freshwater tank,” Hamish explained.

“You don’t need saltwater?” the Spy inquired.

Hamish shrugged, “I guess I don’t. I’m not an actual octopus.”

Without hesitation or further question, Chameleon put the tip in his mouth and sucked on it. As if Hamish was not burning with excitement all ready. He wanted for his old body. He wanted for his human parts again. If he had it, he would be asking this man to open that pretty mouth so he could fuck his face.

He took more of the tentacle into his mouth, slowly moving back. He retreated back at one point, giving a cough. Hamish paid close attention to make sure he was not bothering him with his other tentacles. Though he really wanted to wrap them around him, like an intimate embrace.

“Don’t curl like that. You’ll set off my gag reflex,” Chameleon scorned.

“Oops! Sorry,” Hamish gave an apologetic smile.

Chameleon took the tentacle again. Hamish struggled to focus on it, to make sure it was not wiggling too much. Oh but there was this instinct to wiggle. There was this instinct to feel. And even with something as dangerous as teeth in that mouth, this instinctive part of him wanted to touch everything.

Suddenly the tip was restrained as the Spy swallowed him down his throat. Hamish bit his lip, fascinated with how much he could feel with his tentacle. The muscles squeezed and moved, trying to swallow him down. It was stimulating and amazing, while also intriguing him with the fascinated need to feel more.

Chameleon pulled back to catch his breath, stimulating the tentacle with his hands. He looked to Hamish, panting hard, “How is that?”

“You’re fuckin’ amazing,” Hamish wished he could be eloquent, but he did not have the brain power for that.

“I try,” Chameleon offered a smile, “I’m not sure if there is a peak you can reach though.”

“I don’t know either,” Hamish admitted.

Chameleon looked at the rest of his tentacles. They curled up as he realized that the man was considering them. He felt his cheeks heat up again.

“Uhh…do you need…all of these…touched?” Chameleon asked hesitantly.

Hamish face burned. He wanted him to. He wanted him to touch and suck them all. He shook his head though.

“I’m…uh…that’s not…” he stammered, trying to deny the question, “I need something to hold onto.”

Chameleon nodded and took Hamish’s arm to pull him closer. Upon being moved, his tentacles wrapped around the Spy’s middle. He was delighted to find that it was too easy to untuck his shirt from his pants and slip his tentacles right under the shirt to wrap around skin. He wrapped his arms around him, basking in how warm his body was. More importantly he was soft but hard. He could feel muscles in the man’s stomach and back. He was a well-built man, and probably visited the gym at least once in a while.

When Chameleon started sucking on a tentacle again, he was not ready. He was definitely not ready for it. He was stunned, bliss running through his mind in the highest state of euphoria he had ever been a part of. He was not even sure he could come down from it.

“Huh,” he heard Chameleon say, “Salty.”

As his mind cleared, coming down from his high, he realized that he was still slumped against him, with his tentacles wrapped around him. He could feel the man’s heart racing. Its beat thundered like the hooves of a racehorse. It was not long before he noticed that he was hard down lower too.

He opened his eyes and raised his head to look at the man. It was Chameleon’s turn to look embarrassed. He turned his eyes away, seemingly waiting for Hamish to let him go.

“You seem to be a bit…turned up as well!” Hamish teased.

“That’s not my fault!” Chameleon exclaimed, raising his hands defensively, “You rubbed my nipple! And…you were close to my…I- Your voice was hot when you came like that!”

“Came?” Hamish looked around, bewildered to realize that cum was just about everywhere around the couch, “Oh…um…”

“Fuck,” Chameleon breathed, biting his lip.

“You took care of me,” Hamish offered him a smile, “Let me take care of you!”

“I…it’s not that I don’t…trust you…or anything, but I…I’m not sure I’m ready for you to touch me there with your…” Chameleon was the one stammering now and Hamish had the biggest most confident grin.

“I still got a mouth as human as yours,” Hamish insisted with a gesture to his own lips, “Just lay back, and let me take care of ya.”

Chameleon seemed sated with that response. He shifted away to lean back against the arm rest. He began unbuckling his pants, which Hamish helped to pull away.

Chameleon’s musk was strong and frankly delicious. Hamish wanted to cry for not having met this man sooner. He clearly knew what he was doing, had the qualities of a slut – which Hamish thoroughly loved – and he was well proportioned under all of those clothes.

He took a hold of the pink flesh and ran his tongue flat up the underneath. Chameleon took a sharp breath and bit his lip. As he came to the tip Chameleon’s breath came out with a shudder. Hamish ran circles around the head with his tongue, playing around until he found the spots that Chameleon liked.

“You clearly know what you are doing,” Chameleon commented with a shiver.

Hamish chuckled then took the head of his dick into his mouth. He felt it give an errant twitch, before he began sucking on it. He looked up at Chameleon who was nearly writhing. He gave a half-hearted thrust, before restraining himself again. Hamish decided that after what the Chameleon did for him, and with how gorgeous he was in the throes of sexual pleasures, if Chameleon asked to fuck his throat, he would gladly let him. Of course, that was if he asked and wanted to, not something he was going to suggest.

He did not even get around to deep throating him, before the dick spasmed, twitched and filled his mouth with saltiness. He swallowed as much as he could, licking up what tried to escape his lip. He sat up to let the Chameleon have a little space as he slowly came down from his high.

“That…was amazing,” Chameleon said breathlessly.

“I told you I would take care of you,” Hamish teased.

Chameleon had a stupid shit eating grin as he slowly came back down to Earth. He half-heartedly fixed his pants and straightened his clothes. He sat up and did not bother to move from his spot on the couch. He seemed comfortable seated next to Hamish.

Hamish sighed, relaxing against the couch. He was too tired to move anymore. Every muscle in his body was relaxed and never wanted to get up. His eyelid felt heavy, like he might just drift off to sleep here.

“I’m so tired I don’t think I’ll-” he did not get through the sentence before he started yawning. He stretched his arms and tried to wake his body back up. “Don’t think I’ll make it to the infirmary like this,” Hamish finished.

Chameleon nodded with a small yawn, “I haven’t felt this sleepy in…a long time.”

“Give me a few minutes, it’s going to take me a while to get out your door,” Hamish insisted.

Chameleon patted his shoulder, “Don’t worry. You can stay on the couch. I don’t mind. I’ll just t-” Chameleon paused halfway to his feet. He looked around in a shocked kind of panic. “Okay, maybe the lounge chair would be better?”

Hamish looked around, then at himself, “I’m a bit…sticky…I need to clean up first.” He had no idea how he would get himself out of this otherwise. It would be gross to just submerge himself in his tank like this.

“I’ll start the shower,” Chameleon replied, heading off to start what would be a long cleanup for both of them.


	4. Walk of Shame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sheer humiliation.

It was the walk. Hamish was unsure of the last time he did a walk. The walk of walking from another man’s room, with a little hangover from drinks, a little disheveled from activities and all around looking a mess.

Hamish never minded the walk before. It came with the usual feeling that society wanted him to feel, but at the same time there was something thrilling about the thought that somebody might see him, see what he had done and be forced to contemplate what that might imply.

Friends always told him that was weird. Friends never wanted people to contemplate stuff that was intimate. Hamish was not reluctant to tell them about how he pondered their sex lives, and ooh that set them off.

This time it was a crawl. Moving along on tentacles close to the floor, he was forced to look a little stupid. Especially with the way he tipped over and caught himself on the wall. Creeping along closer to the side was helpful, but it did look weirder. It brought more attention to the fact that he was not feeling as great as the day before.

His mind had wandered off when a set of loud metal footsteps started his way. He flinched and looked around, before spotting the monstrosity approaching from up the hallway behind him. He did _not_ want to be trampled, so he tried to hurry.

The foosteps came close, nearing him quickly. There was no way he could outrun something on two feet like this. He barely had coordination with these damn limbs. As it came upon him, he scrunched up against the side. He stretched his limbs, pressing them against the wall. He stayed as tightly against it as he could, not wanting to draw attention, let alone be stepped on.

The Soldierbot stopped walking and slowly turned to him. It to take weird steps to pivot its position. He felt his heart racing faster as the thing looked down at him. It was like staring hell in the face, and it was going to burn him in the mortal plane first.

A click came from the bot, followed by a voice he had heard before, “Hey fella! What’s your code name? Doc never gave me your code name, so I don’t have an entry for you in the bots’ list.”

“H-” he was stopped by memory of how angry it made the Medic to give out his name before. This time he would be more careful. He was not entirely sure how to do this with a throbbing hangover though. “I’m not giving out no name to some twat hiding behind metal!” he waved a hand at the bot dramatically.

“I need to insert your codename into the system,” the voice responded firmly, “Just give me a codename that can be inserted into the system.”

“I don’t have no codename!” he exclaimed.

The voice sounded like it was trying to be a customer service, while hiding the raging fires beneath the tones, “Just remain calm and-”

“Calm? Calm? The hell I gotta be calm for! What you trying to tell me calm for?” Hamish exclaimed.

“Sir, just remain calm and-” the robot’s hands raised as it seemed to try and appease him.

“Calm? What the bleeding hell do you think you’re telling me for? Remain calm? Shove your calm up your arse, you filthy twit!” he shook a fist at the bot, certain that this voice must be the bot itself, despite sounding so human.

“Sir, I am just trying t-” again it tried to appease him, but he was not having it.

“I don’t care what you’re trying! You could be trying on panties! I don’t care! You’re bleeding my patience dry. I have a limited supply of that already! If you’d like, I’ll give your mother a kiss when I visit her, otherwise get out my damn face!” he gestured as he spoke.

When he finished he started off down the hallway. He had not counted on the bot suddenly turning to follow him. It was fast enough to catch up and big enough that one step on his tentacle sent a scream through the halls.

“Sir, please remain calm and give me your codename,” the voice from the bot demanded in that same customer service tone.

Hamish did not care, not that he ever did. The bot had placed half its weight on his tentacle and it felt like it was dying. He screamed again but the bot was not dissuaded. It was not even startled the way a person would if they had stepped on somebody’s foot. He was sure it could not feel what was under its feet and so could not tell that it had stepped on him.

“Get off!” he waved his arms to try and shoo the bot away.

“Sir, I am not trying to attack you,” the voice insisted patiently.

“Get off me! Get off!” he raised his voice louder.

“Please calm down,” the voice begged, “I don’t mean to startle you.”

“Get off me! Get off of me, you asshole! I’m an inch from breaking you down for scrap!” he screamed as loud as he could, tearing through his vocal cords without regard for his own wellbeing.

“Sir, I am trying to get your-” there was a loud metallic clap and the bot stopped. It twitched, not making a sound. For a while it seemed like it had lost its words.

“Get off of me!” Hamish let out the last words that lost him his voice. He could already tell he fucked up, but he could not care with how much pain he was in.

An explosion sent the bot to pieces. Shrapnel splayed around and the thing fell apart. No longer fully weighed upon his limb, he pulled it back and grabbed it with his hands. He hugged it to his chest, trying to contemplate the feeling of a large heavy metal person stamping on him.

He looked back to the remains of the bot as a figure appeared. The rainbow colors settled on Chameleon’s form, revealing the man as he grabbed up his sapper and tucked it away. He paused to adjust his coat buttons, as if they had gone eschew.

“Thanks mate,” Hamish barely got the words out. His voice was destroyed, he was panting and trying desperately not to cry.

“Not a problem for a friend,” Chameleon assured him, “I would not like to know for myself what it feels like to have one’s…genitalia stepped on.”

He felt his cheeks blushed and looked at the wounded tentacle, “Doesn’t feel like a dick right now.”

“Pardon?” Chameleon held a hand up to the side of his head, where the indents of the man’s small ears showed.

He pointed to his throat, “I need water.”

“Of course,” Chameleon offered a hand which Hamish gladly took.

He did not know what the plan was, and so was surprised when he was hoisted up. He was cradled in one arm, with his weight balanced on the Spy’s hip. He felt his cheeks get hotter at feeling like a child. He rather preferred his crawl of shame.

“I’m heading to the mess hall for breakfast. I can take you there, or I can bring you to the infirmary since it’s on the way,” Chameleon explained.

“Breakfast sounds good,” Hamish whispered, not wanting to strain his voice anymore.

Chameleon nodded and carried him down the hallway. When they arrived, there were two people seated at the table already. It was the Engie Bull and the Bunny Scout. They were eating and chatting away like buddies. At least, Bunny Scout was chatting while Engie Bull seemed to be pretending to listen.

Chameleon set him on the bench next to Bunny Scout who immediately freaked out by hopping out of his seat. Chameleon ignored the reaction as he went to the kitchen, which had since been opened up for entry. Upon give it more attention, Hamish noticed that the door’s wall was newer than the rest of the building, as it had a fresher look. It must have been installed at some point, allowing those in charge to give a time when to lock up the kitchen. It must have been an open kitchen connecting to the mess hall, just like the base he used to work at.

He gave a heavy sigh and looked at his hands folded on the table. After what happened in the hallway, he was not up for poking fun at Bunny Scout or being social in general. He was already feeling tired and felt regret that he did not choose the infirmary instead. Still, he figured it was more normal for him to come to the mess hall and eat some breakfast, than to go to the infirmary and expect to be cared for like a child. Either way, he felt as helpless as a small child, given that other people had to help him out.

The long silence was eventually followed by Bunny Scout taking his seat again. Neither of the other two men spoke for the longest time. He could feel their gazes though. He could see them from the corner of his eye, eyeing him thoughtfully.

He told himself he should be used to this. He should be aware of what this feeling was like. These were the same looks he dealt with when people were adjusting to him having only one eye. Back when he initially lost his eye, these looks really got to him. He was vulnerable and did not know what to do about the unwanted attention.

This was different from that though. This was something he did not even have an explanation for. And he was fairly certain that by the time he got an explanation for himself, he would be long gone from this place, in some way. He shook that thought from his head and accidentally met the Engie Bull’s eyes.

“What?” he shrugged.

“You seem a bit weary,” the Engie Bull replied with a nod, “You had a good night’s rest?”

“Sort of?” Hamish shrugged again, this time looking away.

Bunny Scout gave a nervous sort of laugh, “You look like a hangover and a late night gambling!”

Hamish chuckled, amused at how close to the truth that accusation was, “Maybe.” His voice was too weak to take on a more obnoxious and playful tone.

“You got a codename now, mister?” Engie Bull inquired.

“No,” Hamish said regrettably. This was a time he actually wanted a codename to share with others. “I don’t have anything.”

“Octo Demo!” Bunny Scout exclaimed, with a finger pointed to Hamish.

“Eh,” Hamish shrugged. He was not fond of the name when the Medic said it either.

“Doesn’t quite come off the tongue nicely,” Engie Bull chuckled, before stuffing his mouth.

“How about…Demopus?” Bunny Scout suggested.

“What?” Hamish was a little confused by the name.

“You know! Cause you’re a Demo? And pussy?” the Bunny Scout snickered.

Engie Bull rose out of his seat, just enough to swat the Bunny Scout on the side of his head. The Scout yelped and rubbed his ear, glaring at the Engineer. The two of them glared at each other, like they were having some secret telepathic conversation without Hamish knowing what it was about.

“Okay then, what about Octoman?” the Scout suggested.

“What?” Hamish asked again, bewildered by the name. It was a new one.

“You know…_Octo_pus and you’re a Demo_man_?” Bunny Scout explained.

“That sounds stupid,” Hamish stated.

“Sounds like a superhero from those…picture books,” Chameleon returned with a plate of food for Hamish and one for himself. He chose to sit slightly alone. He was on Engie Bull’s side of the table, but he moved far enough to put enough space for three men between him and the Engie Bull.

Bunny Scout eyed the Chameleon, “I mean, I guess. But like…it’s good, right?” He looked to the Engie Bull for support.

The Engie Bull shrugged and ate his food. He seemed to have lost interest in the conversation altogether.

Suddenly, somebody else came in. Hamish turned to see the Medic walking in. He looked surprised as his eyes laid on Hamish.

“You’re here? I haven’t seen you since yesterday! Where have you been? I tried finding you, but you weren’t in your tank!” Medic exclaimed.

Hamish felt his face get warm as he thought about where he was. It would have been easy for the Medic to find him in his tank. The little pocket was a place of comfort for air when he rested, it was not exactly private though. But he was not willing to tell him the truth about where he was sleeping.

Even if he did not care about the implications himself, Chameleon was sitting across the table from him. They were both in confidentiality together. Everything that happened between them stayed between them. As long as Hamish kept this secret, they would remain friends, and maybe they could have a few benefits to go with the friendship. He would not even hint at jeopardizing what they had made the night before, not when the man was in the room with him.

“I went out for a stroll,” he shrugged, “Not much to do in a little tank of water.”

“Oh, I see,” Medic tapped a finger to his chin.

“What did you need me for?” Hamish inquired.

“I made a recent discovery in your genome and I want to compare my findings to your physique so I have enough evidence for my report,” Medic explained.

“Report huh?” Hamish questioned.

“Doc’s work gets reported to the higher ups,” Engie Bull spoke up, catching Hamish’s attention, “It’s what allows us to stay here.”

Hamish gave a reluctant sigh, then looked at his plate, “Can I at least finish first?” He gestured to the plate.

Medic nodded, then headed into the kitchen. He brought back his own plate and sat down between Engie Bull and Chameleon. After a while, the room became quite chatty again, as the Engie Bull and Bunny Scout both started talking to Medic about things.

Chameleon was still quiet. Hamish was also quiet, trying to save what was left of his voice. At some points during breakfast they shared looks. He hoped that they were moments where they were seeing eye to eye as equals who wanted something similar. He hoped it was a sign of trust between them that neither would rat the other out.


	5. Children Running the Facility

Medic’s physical inspection of Hamish’s tentacles lasted for hours. He was so tired and bored that he was not sure what else to do to keep himself preoccupied. The man was determined to have every detail he could get his hands on. Of course, Hamish was not yet ready to share the bit about his tentacles turning red. The implications might get somebody in trouble, and he did not want to rat on his new possibly-friend-with-benefits.

“I believe that settles it,” Medic smiled to himself, writing on a clipboard.

“What does?” Hamish asked. He was not too interested in the details, but the Medic had left him bored for hours. It was about time he gave Hamish a little attention.

“Your genome is definitely based in cephalopods. Much of the outer appearance is based on octopus structure, but from what I have found, some of it looks like maybe cuttlefish,” the Medic pointed to something on his clipboard. Hamish had no idea what it meant or what it was for. “Either way it’s fascinating!”

“Alright, whatever,” Hamish tried to be blunt in showing just how bored he was, “Can I go now?”

“I’m sorry,” Medic looked shocked, “I didn’t realize I was keeping you from something. Did you have a prior engagement?”

Hamish sighed and pointed to the clock, “You’ve had me sitting here for hours. I would rather be doing something else.”

Medic blinked at him, clutching the clipboard to his chest, “I…you were just always still before.”

“Because I was too exhausted to move,” Hamish said, “I’m restless now, and I’m too tired from being bored to do anything now.”

“I…I’m sorry that my research has been such a bother to you,” the Medic turned away, clearly trying to show how hurt he was from the tone of his voice.

“It’s not the research, lad. You just expect me to sit here without breaks while you do research. I get the feeling you have fun, and that’s alright. You gotta do your job too. Just…_at least_ be a little more considerate of others sitting here waiting on you to give them a break or finish,” Hamish explained, hoping that his words were very plain and easy for the Medic to understand.

“I see…well…I’ll be…more thoughtful…next time,” the Medic’s lower lip quivered and his eyes were watery.

“Are you seriously going to pull the water works?” that was the final straw for Hamish. He climbed off the table as he finally decided to truly show his annoyance, “If you’re going to start to crying about being a thoughtless arsehole, don’t expect me to stick around. You might as well straighten that lip, because it’s pathetic.”

He made his way to the door and stopped to glance at Medic. Medic was watching him, tears already brimming as he tried to brush them away on his sleeve. It was too late for stopping.

“You’re seriously playing a victim card for being an arse? What new levels are you going for?” he scoffed and left the infirmary. His stomach was growling and he wanted something to eat.

Hamish ended up wandering around the base until he ran into Bird Soldier. He saluted Hamish proudly, stopping to let him pass. He smiled in appreciation, especially glad after being stomped on by a robot.

“Thanks mate,” he greeted the man.

Curious, the creature looked at him for a while. He seemed to tilt his head back and forth for a bit. Hamish thought that since he was not leaving, maybe he had a question or a thought. He decided to answer some common ones for him, but was cut off by the sound of marching metal.

The strike of electricity went up his spine as every part of his body moved to get away. It was still a slow process, moving on ten tentacles to try and escape the hallway. His heart was pounding in his ears and he tried to steady his breathing. He started to get confused as to whether it was his heart pounding on his temples or the sound of those feet.

Suddenly, he was scooped up by an arm. He yelped in surprise before the man holding him turned to face the threat. The Soldierbot stopped and looked from the Bird Soldier’s face down to Hamish’s eyes. It clicked as the voice came through.

“Squid boy! Have you anything to say for yourself about what happened this morning?” the voice demanded, clearly enraged.

Hamish did not know what to say. He let silence answer as he stared on in confusion. He thought back to that morning and remembered the incident where Chameleon sapped a bot. He suddenly smiled and chuckled, but he did not have anything to say on the matter.

“Well?!” the voice raised higher in anger.

“Well, what?” Hamish looked up to see the bird head looking at him curiously, tilting back and forth, “I didn’t break the damn thing! It was a Spy’s sapper! What do you want from me? I’m the victim here. I have a bruise on my tentacle from that stupid thing.”

“Oh is that what happened?” the voice said sarcastically, “A Spy’s sapper?”

“Yes!” Hamish exclaimed.

The Bird Soldier’s mouth opened wide as he screeched in the bot’s face. It was so loud that Hamish had to cover his ears. He waited until he was sure the noise would not hurt before removing his hands.

“Oh stuff seed in it, Duncan!” the voice barked at the Bird Soldier.

“I don’t know what he’s saying, but lay off!” Hamish yelled.

“Hush you,” the voice barked at Hamish.

“Nah! I’ll take your bot head off instead! How would you go about your gobshite then?” Hamish challenged. He wiggled out of the Bird Soldier’s arm, getting himself on the floor.

The voice laughed, “You’re mighty spunky for a little guy!”

“Come fight me yourself! I’ll show _you_ what’s what!” Hamish barked.

“Or I could do this,” the bot reached down and grabbed Hamish by the neck.

The pinching metal grabbed so hard he could already feel his skin bruising. Its other arm pulled back to punch. Bird Soldier leaped forward, trying to knock the bot away. Hamish ended up dragged by his neck, choking in desperation. He clawed at the metal arm, but lost his vision as something struck him in the face.

He scrabbled with the arm, as the Bird Soldier began screeching over his head. He covered his ears as he tried desperately to escape this sudden nightmare. The cold metal suddenly released him and he was free to rush away. He finally opened his eyes and tried his best to hurry away.

He nearly ran into a leg, backing up to a wall to let running men pass him. He was in no mood to socialize or find out who was who. His heart was racing and everything in his body told him to retreat. The safest place he felt like going right now was his tank in the infirmary. He would wait for them to pass, then go there as fast as he could.

Before he could even move, the Medic dropped down to his level, “Stay right here. I’ll be right back.” He sprang to his feet and ran in the direction that others were going.

Hamish finally caved and turned his head to look. The spectacle of the Bird Soldier tangling with the bot was kind of amazing. The Bird Soldier was taking a lot of hard hits, but giving back everything he had.

“Go Bird Soldier!” he cried out weakly.

He clutched his throat, now remembering that he was intending to save his voice. No doubt he would have no voice tomorrow. Today at least, he had some way to say things.

He watched as the mercenaries pulled the fight apart. There were some metal parts falling off of the bot, with exposed wiring hanging out loosely unprotected. Bird Soldier had been ruffled up, with a few feathers now falling to the ground. He had an evident bruise forming over one eye, scuffs on his beak and blood dripping from his tongue as his mouth hung open.

“What the hell is going on here?!” the Medic demanded as the two were restrained.

“He started this!” the voice from the bot pointed at Bird Soldier. Bird Soldier’s only response was an eagle-like screech.

“No he didn’t!” Hamish decided to use what was left of his voice on something useful, “You attacked _me_!” There was stunned silence at hearing this.

Medic spun to look to the bot, “Is this true? Automan, did you attack my patient?” He gestured with a hand towards Hamish down the hall.

“He was huffing and challenging and getting up in my face about it!” the voice protested.

“I highly doubt that,” the Medic crossed his arms and frowned.

“Me?! You were the one who wanted some excuse for breaking your toys!” Hamish exclaimed.

“You broke the bot this morning?” Medic turned to him with a questioning look.

“No,” Hamish shook his head, “That was a Spy sapper.”

“Oh,” the Medic did not seem surprised to hear that, “Which Spy was it?”

Hamish was surprised by the question coming from Medic, “I’m not ratting!”

“If you won’t hand over a culprit, then you’re as guilty as him!” the bot pointed at Hamish. The arm was a little bent out of shape from the fight, giving it an unnerving look of being bent slightly the wrong way.

Hamish shuddered, “Fuck you, you damn idiot!”

“Please,” Medic held out a hand to Hamish, then another towards the bot.

Hamish recalled talking to Medic earlier. He remembered how curt he was about being bored and annoyed. He was surprised the Medic was still being so patient with him. The man had to be some kind of saint to put up with shit like this without dishing out shit. That was, unless he was planning to dole out shit later.

“You two need to stop,” Medic said sternly, turning to the bot, “Automan, take your bots back to your workshop. I don’t want to see another one stomping around in here until you’re ready to apologize to Bird Soldier.”

The bot took a step back and looked to Bird Soldier. The voice clicked on again, “Heck no.”

Bird Soldier was clicking his beak, clearly unsettling other mercenaries. It was especially unnerving for the men who were trying to hold him back. Hamish was sure that if he just turned his beak and pretended to nip at them, they would easily release him. They had more fear of the beak, than of the consequences for releasing the beak.

“Then take your bots,” Medic pointed up the hall away from Hamish, “And you can mope in your own quarters.”

The voice came through louder this time, “Why you giving this guy preferential treatment?!”

The Medic turned to the bot again, “Have you forgotten when _you_ came here? You were in my infirmary for months! You needed hospice and special care. This man has _not_ been released from my care. Just because he’s finding ways to move around doesn’t mean you get to pick on him!”

The bot was still, completely motionless for a long time. Medic stared at it, waiting for a response. He was turning read in the face as he glared at the bot.

“Beep boop!” a robotic voice came from the bot’s head, “Maggots!”

It turned and started marching off down the hall. Medic let out a loud huff then told the others to clear out. There was nothing left to gather for. Hamish took this as his cue. He started off down the hall to the infirmary, but before long, the Medic came upon him.

“Can we talk?” Medic asked.

Hamish was worried about what the man might be on about, but forced a smile, “Sure. What’s up?”

“Well, I don’t want to bore you,” Medic said.

Hamish frowned and stopped. He glared up at the Medic, “If you’re gonna pull that shit, we don’t need to talk. If you wanna talk, I’ll be willing to speak to a damn adult!”

Medic took a deep breath and puffed up his chest, “You-”

Hamish cut him off quickly, “If you intend to use your size and stature to bully me into shutting the hell up, then you’ve got a long road coming. If your mother didn’t learn you any manners, then you never will. Spare me the attitude, doc.”

Medic clicked his jaw shut, then marched off to the infirmary. Hamish did not know what he was expecting. Maybe he wanted an apology. He was not entirely sure. Either way, the Medic chose a childish route. He headed to the infirmary as well, but he did not expect the man to talk to him. He just went to his tank and laid down in his air pocket.


	6. Intruder Alert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Hamish remembers that he is a killer mercenary.

Banging on glass startled Hamish out of sleep. He looked around in a moment of panic. He peered out the glass which obscured Medic. He was waving a hand in a jerky motion, gesturing for him to come out.

Hamish sighed in frustration as he climbed out of the pocket. He swam to the edge of the tank and climbed over the edge. Medic was already attending to somebody on a table, keeping him busy.

“What’s up, doc?” Hamish called to him.

Medic glanced up from his work, “I needed to let you know we have a security lockdown. I’m going to be in and out of here tending to patients.” As if on cue, the man on the table seemed to explode blood on the Medic. He quickly turned his attention to his patient. “Everybody will be busy, but I don’t want you getting into any more trouble. Please stay put for the time being.”

“Fine,” he sighed and laid his chin on his arms. He suddenly remembered that it had been a while since he had shaved. He ran a hand over his lower jaw, finding that it was beginning to grow wildly out of control.

After a few minutes, Medic rushed from the infirmary, grabbing a medical kit on his way out. Hamish watched him go, unsure of what to do. He could probably entertain himself for a while, but the infirmary was not a great place for that. Then again, he could always work on swimming.

He dropped down into the water and closed his eyes. Counting in his head, he tried to track how long he was holding his breath. When he opened his eyes, preparing to push up to the surface to breathe, he saw a face distorted by the glass. He flinched in surprise, before pushing himself to the surface. He gasped for air as he used his arms to bring himself to the edge of the glass.

“What the hell? You scared the living daylights out of me!” Hamish declared. He looked over the edge, down at the Coyote Scout. “What are you doing in here?” he asked.

“We have an enemy alert right now,” Coyote Scout started backing away from the tank, staring up at Hamish, “I uh…came in to make sure nothing got in here.” He turned to look over at the patient, who was groaning on the table where he had been left by the Medic.

“I didn’t notice anybody come in,” Hamish shrugged.

“You didn’t notice me come in,” Coyote Scout argued.

“True,” Hamish shrugged again, “You were pretty quiet. Maybe there’s a Spy lurking around.” He slowly lowered himself into the water, letting those words be slightly ominous for the Coyote Scout.

Through the thick glass he could see the Scout looking around warily. He held his gun at the ready, searching around the room for any signs of an invisible intruder. Hamish watched for any signs of a Spy as well. The longer he watched the Coyote Scout, the warier he grew. Though, the more he watched for a Spy, the less he thought there would even be a Spy around here.

After a while, the Coyote Scout lowered his gun. He walked towards the door and was about to push it open when they flung inward. Thrust backwards, the Scout flailed and fumbled until he fell to the ground. Hamish felt every part of his body tense as gunshots sounded off. A man came charging in, quickly reloading his gun.

Hamish was behind glass in a tank of water. This was not the safest place to be right now if they started shooting randomly. He pushed himself up and over the tank’s edge. He almost dropped down to the ground, barely catching himself on the lower area of the glass’s side.

The armed man spun and yowled at Hamish. Heart pounding, Hamish could feel his blood pounding through his veins. At any moment a bullet could pierce his skin, without so much as a piece of clothing to block its path. And to think he did not even have drink on hand to lessen the pain to come.

The man was frozen, hand visibly shaking. He was in a vulnerable position, so that he would more likely pull the trigger. If his attack on the Coyote Scout was anything to go by, he was already set on killing everybody in his way. His hesitation had to be coming from the obvious shock of Hamish’s appearance.

“Oh, bloody hell,” Hamish grumbled, hugging himself. The first normal human he meets aside from the Medic, and the man’s judging him as a monster.

Suddenly, the Coyote Scout was on his feet. One hand was gripping the wound on his side, while the other raised his weapon. He was a bit shaky, trembling from head to toe. He looked like he was a mess. His ears were laid back and his tail tucked in. In spite of all of this, the Scout held a grimace, already determined to do what he must. He let out a low guttural growl, catching the attention of the attacker.

As soon as the man spun around, two shots went off. Blood spattered out onto the floor. The man stumbled backwards away from the Scout. He grabbed onto the wound but was otherwise unable to stand. He fell, as if already dead on the floor. He was no doubt losing consciousness but still alive.

“Motherfucking Spy!” Coyote Scout barked angrily, his voice a bit distorted by the howling barking sound to his words.

Hamish took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. His heart was still pounding so loud. Every hair on his arms stood on end. He reminded himself to breathe as he ran his hands over his arms. He looked down at his arms, studying his old tattoo of chains binding onto words.

“Y-you…you alright?” Coyote Scout’s voice was so shaky and weary. He sounded like he might faint or cry at any moment. Still, he kept his everything put together.

“You saved my life!” Hamish replied, acknowledging that the man had protected him from death by standing against all odds to slay the attacker, “Thank you!”

“No problem!” the lad gave him an okay signal, but the forced smile faded and he did not look okay.

“Have a lay down,” Hamish told him, “I’m going to fetch the Medic.”

“It’s alright! I’m fine!” Coyote Scout straightened up, and immediately flinched in pain at the movement.

Hamish frowned, noting how prideful the youth could be, “Well…I think we should…” He paused a moment for thought. His eyes landed upon the attacker. “I think we should get him in here to clean this up.” He gestured to the bloody body.

Coyote Scout nodded in agreement, his ears perking up in alert attention, “Oh right. Yea. We should.”

“You saved my life,” Hamish went on, “I owe you my life. The least I could do is let you rest a bit after that and fetch the Medic myself.”

“Y-yea,” Coyote Scout shrugged, “That…th-that sounds…f…f-fair.” Hamish grew concerned, taking a mental note to tell the Medic about the young man’s stammering.

“I’ll be back!” he hurried as quickly as he could out the door and into the hallway.

Seeing as he had no idea where the Medic would be and he was travelling slowly, he cupped his hands around his mouth and called out for the man. He raised his voice as loud as he could until some metal beast came stomping from around the corner. He recognized the bot and immediately moved out of its way. The thing stopped, turning to address him.

“Unidentified intruder!” its robotic voice announced, before aiming a weapon at him.

“Bloo- HELP!” he raised his voice as loud as he could, before hurrying on his way. A shot went off behind him, exploding against the wall. He was not very fast though, and he could hear the bot coming after him again.

Gunshots dissimilar from the rocket launcher the bot had went off. He was still hurrying, before he heard the Coyote Scout calling after him. He stopped and turned to look back. The younger mercenary was leaning against the wall. He gave Hamish a smile and a thumbs up, trying to act like everything was fine. He could tell that the young man was not doing well, based on the pale tone of his skin and the blood dropping from his lip. He needed to hurry up and find the Medic.

He hurried through the hallway and turned around the corner. He immediately ran into Bird Soldier, “Hey! I’m looking for Medic! Coyote Scout’s in a bad way. A dead Spy is in the infirmary. We need to find him.”

Bird Soldier immediately scooped him up under one arm. He turned and marched off quickly, with Hamish in tow. He was not about to protest again, when the Bird Soldier had previously proved that he was usually trying to help. He remained calm as the man began running. He charged through the halls and eventually came to where the Medic was talking with the Engie Bull, who was holding a shotgun.

“We need to make sure that-” Medic cut off when he saw the Bird Soldier approaching with Hamish under his arm, “What’s going on?”

“There’s an intruder bleeding to death and Scout needs a Medic!” Hamish declared.

“What? Where? The infirmary?!” the Medic grabbed his crossbow from his belt and started running.

Bird Soldier spun to follow him. He kept at his heel, following him all the way to the infirmary. They burst through the double doors to find the floor spattered and rippling with blood. Hamish had not noticed before how much blood there was. Granted, the intruder had bled out for a while since he left. A trail went to the wall, where Coyote Scout had sat down, pressing his back against it. His head was tilted forward with his eyes closed, while blood soaked his clothes.

“Coyote Scout!” Medic exclaimed, dropping to a knee beside him.

While Medic tended to the younger man’s wounds, Hamish wriggled out of the Bird Soldier’s arm. He carefully got onto the floor, surprised to find it warm and wet. The surprisingly delightful thought relaxed his mind out of the sudden crisis. Scout was going to be okay, after all. He did not have much to worry about anymore, so there was no reason he could not enjoy how wet the floor was.

He looked down at the floor and felt like his face turned sheet white. He stared at the blood on the floor, now pooling around him and staining his tentacles. The comfortable warmth was fresh blood that he was now sloshing around in. It was not even like walking around it, with boots on, and smaller feet. No, every tentacle was partially drenched in the stuff, with even a lifted tentacle dripping with the remains from the body behind him.

Bird Soldier screeched, catching the Medic’s attention. The man’s eyes were wide as dinner plates. “Are you alright?! Did you get hurt? Where is your injury?!” Medic jumped to his feet, but immediately became conflicted between two patients.

“I’m fine, it’s not my blood,” as the words left his mouth, his stomach forced up everything he had eaten prior.

He was shaking, with his mind processing the taste of stomach acid, when the Bird Soldier lifted him off the floor. Everything smelled rancid and horrible now. He was dripping with blood everywhere. He was sure some of it had gotten elsewhere and he did not even know about it. He was too terrified to even think about it.

“The washroom,” the Medic pointed to the door across the room from the tank, “I will be in here with Coyote Scout.”

The Bird Soldier marched quickly through the door and into a large bathroom. It was sizable to make room for a large tub, larger than any tub meant for normal homes. It was not he kind of place meant to soak in, as one side of the tub was lower than the rest, letting somebody have easy access to help somebody wash. Hamish remembered previously being washed in here by Medic, while he was too out of it and weak to do so himself.

Bird Soldier did not seem to realize that Hamish could take care of himself. He turned on the water to warm it up, then he put some soap in his palm to start washing him. Hamish grabbed the wrist, stopping him short of grabbing his tentacles. They were already curling under, trying to stay far from Bird Soldier’s grasp.

“I can wash m’self, lad,” he insisted. He met the creature’s eye and for a long moment doubted it could understand him speaking. It only lasted a moment though as it rose to full height and backed away. “I can take care of myself. Thank you for your help,” Hamish assured him.

Without response, the Bird Soldier turned to the sink to rinse his hand. He paused to dry his hands before leaving the room. Hamish let out a breath he did not know he was holding. He was not sure why, but he thought he ought to be a little more conscientious about his own biases when looking at the Bird Soldier’s head.


	7. Coyote on the Prowl

Since Hamish could not be of much help cleaning up, he got in his tank to stay out of the way. Medic did most of the cleanup. Eventually one other person came to help him, but Hamish did not know who he was. They got the blood cleaned up rather quickly and the two of them went to “grab a beer” together.

Hamish was left alone to ponder what could have happened if Coyote Scout had not been there to help him out. The man himself was asleep on one of the patient beds. He was no longer bleeding as Medic had patched him up. The wounds were entirely healed, thanks to the medigun. The only reason he was still there was that he passed out from blood loss and the Medic wanted to keep an eye on him for a while.

The infirmary doors opened, cutting off his thoughts. He was surprised to see that Bird Soldier had come back. He waved in greeting. Bird Soldier responded by gesturing him to come out of the tank.

Bird Soldier did not do a lot of things that Hamish understood, but he was curious so he complied. He climbed out of the tank, dropped down to the examination table and was joined by Bird Soldier.

Hamish kept his voice low so he would not disturb the sleeping Scout, “What’s going on?”

Bird Soldier reached behind his back for something that Hamish could only see the handle of. He was surprised and a little intimidated when the Bird Soldier brandished a shovel. He waved it around in the air like a sword.

“Nice shovel, mate,” he complimented.

Bird Soldier immediately handed it to him. Hamish was a bit surprised. He did not mean that he wanted it.

“I didn’t mean like- Don’t give me your shovel,” Hamish insisted as he tried to push it away from himself.

Bird Soldier shook his head, then pointed to Hamish. He pointed to the shovel, then offered it again. Hamish hesitated and licked his lips. He gestured to the shovel then to himself.

“This is a gift for me?” he asked.

Bird Soldier nodded slowly, putting the shovel in his hands. Hamish was not sure what he was going to do with this, but he offered a smile. This was a kind thing to do. After all, nobody had really thought to give Hamish anything other than medication since he arrived here.

“Thanks lad,” he said with a grateful smile. He gave the shovel a couple of swings, just to make it look like he was trying it out.

Bird Soldier seemed to be satisfied with that as he gave Hamish a salute. Hamish returned the salute. Bird Soldier turned and marched from the infirmary, leaving Hamish to ponder the fact that he had been left this gift.

He heard shuffling and then a yawn. He watched from his perch on the examination table as the Coyote Scout sat up. He stretched his arms and hopped off the bed. His shirt had been cut away for Medic to tend to him, leaving him dressed only in blood stained pants.

Scout was not a bad looking young man. He definitely had muscular definition of an athlete. His clothes seemed to have hid all of this, as he never noticed that he had some thick muscles in his back. When he turned, Hamish was caught between the eight pack on his belly and the thin white scar that cut down his front, from the top of his sternum to almost reaching his belly button.

“Feel better, sleeping beauty?” Hamish teased.

“A bit,” Coyote Scout stretched his arm, “You feel good?”

He tilted his head at the Scout, a bit puzzled, “Yea? You?”

“I feel great! Amazing! Whatever doc gave me it’s kicked in and I could fuck!” the man chattered excitably.

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!” Hamish raised his hands and laughed awkwardly, “You lost a lot of blood. Doc is going to be back soon to look after you. I think he’ll want you here overnight.”

“I don’t need to be here overnight,” Coyote Scout began stretching his legs, “Unless I’m fucking with you?”

Hamish tilted his head at him, “Are you functioning properly?” He pulled his tentacles close to his body for comfort. “You seem far off the mark, lad.”

“Never better!” Coyote Scout said excitedly, “So? What do you say?”

“What do I say…to what?” Hamish hesitated.

“You know? Having a fuck? Rolling in the hay? Going around the merry go round? Spanking the Juliet?” Coyote Scout chattered.

“I don’t think half of those mean what you think they mean,” Hamish shook his head, “And I think you need to lay down.”

“Lay down? Why would I lay down? I don’t need to lay down!” Coyote Scout laughed, “I’m in the best freaking shape ever! See? Look at these babies!” Coyote Scout started flexing his arms, trying to show off his muscles.

Hamish could not stifle the chuckle at Scout’s behavior. Somehow it drew him closer though. He stopped as hands slammed down on the examination table. He had not heard the Coyote Scout draw closer.

“You got like, eight tentacles, right?” the younger man demanded.

“I have ten,” Hamish stated, curling his tentacles even tighter.

“Really?” Coyote Scout gave him a perplexed look of genuine surprise.

“You are really off your knockers right now,” Hamish chuckled.

“No no! Look!” Coyote Scout started pointing at each tentacle, “One, two, three, four, five-”

The infirmary doors suddenly opened to the Medic laughing. He was heeled by the Engie Bull and one other creature that Hamish did not know. Medic stopped laughing as he strolled through the infirmary.

“Coyote Scout, you should not be out of bed!” he said. He hurried over to take the Scout’s arm.

“What are you talking about, doc? I feel great!” Coyote Scout grinned from ear to ear. He looked to Hamish, still grinning stupidly. “This guy can back me up, right? Tell him!” Medic forced him to turn around and directed him to the bed. Coyoto Scout turned back around, holding out the thumb and pinkie of one hand. He held it to the side of his head and said, “Call me!”

The two men who came in with Medic were quiet. Hamish could feel their glances in his direction, but neither of them would speak to him. He was a bit unsure about talking to them too. He was not sure what they were thinking or what they were even doing here. He spoke to Engie Bull before, but he still felt like a stranger.

When Medic came back, he had managed to tuck the Coyote Scout in and get him to sleep, “He should be out for another few hours.”

“Never seen him act like that before,” the Engie Bull stated, glancing towards Coyote Scout’s bed.

Medic chuckled awkwardly, “He had a lot of medicine. It was all that would shut him up before I could heal his wounds. He’ll be out of it until the morning. He’ll be alright. Don’t take him too seriously.”

Hamish shook his head and turned to speak to the other two. They were already leaving though, without noticing that Hamish wanted to speak to them. He shrugged it off and turned to Medic.

“Doc, you wouldn’t happen to enjoy card games, would you?” he inquired.

“Not now,” Medic raised a hand to stop him, “I have work to do.”

Hamish fell silent as the Medic got to his work. He had stitches to do on a patient, then apparently a visit to make to another patient. Hamish wondered why the patient could not just come to Medic. He decided not to judge though, since Medic would probably visit him, if his tank was located elsewhere.

It was quiet in the infirmary. It was almost an eerie silence. The smell of soap was very strong after the place had been scrubbed clean of blood.

He was so bored of floating in his tank. There was nothing he knew of to do. He could swim around or crawl around the tank quite nicely. He debated testing his stamina for holding his breath again.

“Hamish?” a voice called distantly.

“Yea?” he responded, head jerking to look around the room. There was nothing there and no noise to tell of somebody entering. Though, the voice sounded quite distant to him, so he figured they were somewhere out in the halls. “I’m in here!” he called loudly, “You’re gonna have to come in here!”

He listened for a response, but there was nothing. He could not hear any footsteps outside either. This medical wing was so silent he could have heard a pin drop. It was a little disconcerting.

“If you want to talk to me, you’re gonna have to come inside!” he called loudly.

Again, there was no response. All he was left with was silence. With a sigh he relented to try and pass the time by working on his stamina at holding his breath.

When morning came, he was greeted at the outer edge of his tank by none other than Coyote Scout. He was on his feet, walking around. He seemed to be making a pest out of himself, talking off the Medic’s ear while the man was trying to test a sample of something that looked like bile.

“Mornin’ Scout,” Hamish greeted as the younger man waved to him.

“Oh, uh…hey…I wanted to talk to you about something,” Coyote’s face grew a bit red and he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Oh, what you flustered about?” he thought over the day before and put on a wry smirk, “It’s not about that offer you made me yesterday was it? Cause if you weren’t in your worst mind, I would have taken you in your best mind!” He chuckled as he watched the nervous man squirm.

“Oh, you do remember that,” Coyote Scout shifted awkwardly. He looked up to look at Medic. Hamish looked to see that Medic was giving him a curious and questioning look. “I uh…um…”

Hamish did not want to be embarrassed in front of Medic either. Being the one person who handled their care, especially at such a vulnerable time in their lives, he stood out from the rest. That did not even account for the fact that the man was his naturally born self and not made into somebody’s science project.

Hamish frowned at his own actions. He felt a bit ashamed of it, but not enough to beat himself over the head about it. Instead, he would just change the situation so he could make it up to the Coyote Scout by removing him from the Medic’s scrutiny.

“Why don’t we go grab a bite from the mess hall,” Hamish suggested, “Medic looks awful busy.”

Coyote Scout nodded as Hamish climbed over the edge of the glass. He made his way down and hopped off the examination table. He felt like he was getting pretty good at getting down this way.

He followed the Scout out of the infirmary, but he was having a hard time sticking with Hamish. He kept walking ahead then stopping to wait with a tapping foot. After the third time this happened, Hamish halted before reaching him.

“Is that necessary?” he gestured to the Coyote Scout’s foot.

Coyote glanced at his foot then looked to Hamish, “You’re taking so long!”

“I can’t get anywhere fast, right now,” Hamish nodded in agreement, “That doesn’t mean you should be rude about it.” He pointed to Coyote’s foot again, reminding him of the tapping.

Coyote sighed, “Fine. You’re just taking a long time.”

“I know that, but take it from my side of things,” Hamish insisted, “I’m crawling on ten tentacles. Not exactly what I’m used to. You’re um…on two feet. I’m at an unfair disadvantage.”

“Yea, I guess you’re right,” Coyote scratched his head.

“I am right!” Hamish insisted with an affirmative nod.

Hamish proceeded to join Coyote Scout, but as he reached the man they did not move. Hamish looked up at him, a bit puzzled. Coyote Scout was chewing on a nail, with his eyes averted to the side. He seemed to have forgotten what they were doing.

“Um…Coyote? The kitchen?” Hamish suggested.

“Uh…” Coyote Scout hesitated for a moment, before looking Hamish in the face, “That joke you made about the offer.”

“Yea?” Hamish asked hesitantly, “You were pretty riled up yesterday.”

Coyote Scout’s face turned redder, “I…yesterday I mean, I wasn’t in my right mind.”

“I know that,” Hamish nodded, “Doc said you were on some medication.”

“Yea,” Coyote Scout let out a breath, “Well, it’s just that-”

When he cut off, suddenly unable to say anything, Hamish became concerned. He tilted his head at the other man. He was not sure what led him to this sudden stop.

“Coyote Scout?” he hesitated, wondering if the younger man wanted to insinuate something he could not insinuate while he was not under the influence. “You want to fuck?”

Coyote Scout suddenly let out a breath he was holding. His entire body seemed to relax upon the exhale. Then Coyote started nodding, looking to Hamish for an answer to his own unspoken question.

“Noted,” Hamish said, “Let’s get food in our bellies, find some place to hang out and see where we go from there.”

Coyote Scout’s face lit up like Christmas lights. The youth was bouncing on his heels as they started towards the kitchen. A few other mercenaries were at the table, but Hamish assumed they would not be there too long anyways. Coyote Scout sprang into action as he rushed through the door to the kitchen. He quickly prepared some not-quite-prepared food that was still edible, then hurried out. He nearly darted away without Hamish altogether.

Hamish hurried after him, trying to keep up but failing. He followed the Coyote Scout through the halls until they reached a door. It was in a hall far from anywhere Hamish had already been.

“Uh…don’t mind the mess,” Coyote mentioned as he pushed the door open, “I haven’t had a chance to clean up lately.”

Hamish moved inside and was immediately aware of what he meant. This was perhaps because of the fact that he was now closer to the floor and walking on ten very sensitive tentacles that felt everything. The floor itself was quite dirty, leaving his tentacles feeling icky. There were some random socks tossed about on the floor, along with a couple of shirts that had been tossed. He could smell the laundry without getting near it. While normally he did not mind body odors, this accosted his senses in a manner that left him feeling put out.

Coyote Scout cleared a chair, moving what smelled like clean clothes to the bed. He patted the chair, indicating that it would be Hamish’s spot to sit. He proceeded to lay food out on the unused desk.

Hamish did a double take as he noticed something under the bed. He paused, tilting his head to look at the piece of literature. It was hidden in the shadows of the bed, but he could see the half nude woman with her straps falling off quite clearly.

Hamish climbed onto the chair and clicked his tongue. He was not sure what to say about the state of the place in relation to what Coyote Scout wanted. He was not really willing to do anything beyond eating in here. It was not so dirty that he felt it unsanitary to eat in here, so they could at least eat breakfast together.

“So like,” Coyote Scout started spreading butter on bread then wolfing it down, “What kind of stuff do you like?”

“Hmm?” Hamish was a little distracted by the dirty feeling on his tentacles.

“Like, I’m not a picky guy. I’m into a lot of stuff. Do you watch anime? I have a lot of…hentai. Do you even know what that is?” Coyote Scout rambled.

“I have no idea,” Hamish tried to distract his mind with food.

“You have no idea about hentai? Or you have no idea what you like?” Coyote Scout asked.

“Well, you’re finally getting to points,” Hamish said, before stuffing his mouth with buttered bread.

“I’m trying here,” Coyote Scout shrugged.

“What was it you wanted to know again? You distracted me with the hentai thing,” he stuff his mouth full with a poppy seed bagel.

“Like, do you top? Or bottom? I’m good with both, to tell you the truth. I like doing both. Heck, I like doing both at the same time, if you know what I mean!” Coyote Scout’s excited jabbering was not hard to follow but it was very distracting. He seemed to have as many words to get out of his mouth as he was putting food in. “I’m…I’m…I’m pretty good at being a top, you know. I got stamina for days! You wouldn’t believe.”

“No, I don’t believe,” Hamish said in an amused tone.

“That’s what chicks always say,” Scout chuckled, “Guys though…guys are like…I don’t know…I like it when guys take control. When I top, I top from the top. I don’t take to girls who like to be on top. I like to be on top. But I’ll bottom from like, wherever you want.”

“Scout,” Hamish interrupted him.

“Yes?” the younger man finally stopped rambling, looking to him for explanation for the interruption.

“I’m flattered and all. And I was going to be ready for ya…but this…” Hamish paused to gesture around the room, “If this is where you were planning on doing things, it’s not going to work. As it is, there’s no way I can do a thing right now, on account of all the dirt.” As if on cue, his senses protested, forcing him to sneeze. He rubbed his nose before he continued, “I’m not a typically picky man, but you brought me into an atypical place that…honestly you need to take the time to clean.”

Coyote Scout’s facial expressions changed so drastically that Hamish could not keep up. He was sure he spotted shock and disappointment in there. He was disappointed himself, given he would not even be able to perform in these conditions if he wanted to. Right now he wanted nothing more than to wash off.

“I’m willing to do this with you, and you seem real excited…but unless your space gets cleaned…or we get another place to do this…there is no way I can perform in any measure,” he explained.

“R-right,” Coyote Scout hesitated, “I-I-I just thought I…um…”

“Let’s talk,” Hamish insisted, brushing the crumbs off his fingers, “We’ll talk now, then when we’re both in agreement of the location, we’ll both know what we’re getting into.”

He almost regretted his words. Once given the reins to chat, Coyote Scout went with it. He talked and chattered for so long. Hamish could barely get a few words in at a time. The young man was eager to tell him all about his wants and desires, especially the ones that applied most to Hamish. The young man had some sort of dream to have sex with a bunch of tentacles. He did not specify how many, he just said a bunch. Hamish listened for the most part, a little grossed out that the man was so quick to jump at the idea of his tentacles being like toys.

Through the whole conversation he barely got to tell Coyote Scout anything. There was certainly no chance to tell him that shoving his tentacles in every hole and crevice in the Scout’s body would indeed be pleasurable. Forget telling him about cumming everywhere on everything.

The only time that Coyote Scout did stop talking was when he decided to show Hamish a film. It was something that expressed his deepest desires apparently. It was something strange to watch and definitely did not have Hamish interested. For one thing, it was an animated film about some tentacle monster. Hamish was a man with tentacles, not some lowlife beast. What was more was that the “bottom” was a woman, as it seemed the film could not be bothered with drawing a man in such a position. It left him disinterested and bored, but at least there was one benefit from watching the film, it gave him ideas on what he could do with his body.


	8. Shared Showers

Hamish made his way carefully down the hallway. He felt gritty and gross after his visit with Coyote. It was probably not as bad as he thought, but he still thought that maybe he should have a wash. A thought occurred to him and he excitedly hurried down the hall.

To his delight, he found that he was right. The base had a similar layout to the one he used to work at. The showers were in almost the exact same place.

He never minded the community showers, though he had grown a bit accustomed to the privacy of the infirmary. He did not feel like going back to the infirmary for the Medic to question him about washing or anything. Not that the man _always_ asked, but sometimes he could get on Hamish’s nerves.

He ran the water, shivering at the cold droplets splashing against his arms. His hair stood on end as he rubbed his arms to calm the chilly sensation. With no clothes to take off, it felt as if the water took longer to heat up than it should.

He moved under the water when it was warm and sighed. It felt nice to have a normal shower. The normalcy of it was relative, considering he was not tall enough to enjoy it like he used to. His back was much farther from the spigot so the pressure was not quite as intense against his back.

He rubbed his shoulders. At first he was just running his hands over his skin, but then he was digging the fingers in to massage the muscles. Aches and pains flitted through his memories as he recalled the many times he stood under the running hot water just to ease the tension.

He let out a sigh and raised himself as high as he could. He might not have any aches in his muscles, but he still wanted to feel the pressure of the water beating against his back and shoulders. He wanted the warm water to remind him of the many times he was relieved of grime and aches.

“Hey there!” he heard Coyote Scout call from the door. He could not see the man as the shower divider was in his way. “Mind if I join?” Coyote laughed, as he started up another shower head at the other end of the room.

He spared a peep around the divider. Coyote removed his clothes unceremoniously, tossing them aside to be washed later. He grabbed his soaps brought from his room before stepping into the stall he had picked.

“Well, and here I was hoping you were actually going to join me!” he taunted with a laugh.

Coyote popped his head around the divider to stare at him wide eyed. His mouth moved for a few moments, but no words came out. He did not seem to know what he wanted to say.

“I mean, if it was just a jest, I’ll understand,” Hamish chuckled, holding up his hands, “But I was ready to take you up on that offer!”

Coyote’s mouth for a moment more before he shook himself out of the stupor, “You serious?”

Hamish shrugged, “Yes?”

Coyote disappeared and turned off his shower. When he stepped out of the shower, he gave a rough shake of his head, flopping big canine ears. He brought his soaps and a slowly wagging tail to the far end of the showers, where Hamish was.

“Hey there,” Scout pointed to him in what was meant to be a _cool guy_ gesture. It made Hamish chortle a little. “Good looking…” the hesitation in his voice made it sound like a question.

“Scout, we just talked a while ago. We don’t need the awkwardness or formalities,” Hamish teased.

“Uh…yea…” Coyote Scout hesitated, “But um, you’re naked-”

Hamish cut him off, “I’m pretty much always naked.”

“I’m naked,” Coyote added, turning a bit rouge.

“Have you never been naked in the showers before? You have a community shower room here,” Hamish made a general gesture to take in the vicinity.

“Yea but like…I think most of the guys here are like…not into guys…and I’m not really into them, anyways,” Coyote Scout explained.

Hamish opened his mouth to speak and hesitated when his eyes landed on Coyote’s genitalia. He grinned when he saw that he was already growing hard, “I see you’re into me though.”

“Well like-” Coyote rubbed the back of his neck. His face was a burning raspberry.

Hamish eyed the younger man’s body. He was not a bad looking man, though he did seem kind of scrawny. He still had an athletic build, with muscle to bolster. He could probably lift Hamish at his current weight.

He raised a tentacle, reaching under the man. He watched the man’s body jolt as he brushed his scrotum, then stroked along the underside from the base to the tip. His eyes moved up to watch the Scout’s reaction. He looked like he was holding his breath.

“Thought you wanted to be touched,” Hamish quickly pulled away, “Don’t be scared.”

“I’m not,” Coyote let out a breath, “I…don’t want to be heard if we’re doing this.”

Hamish felt the tentacle he had used begin to throb, and the orangish tentacles started turning red. He raised his hand to the younger man, “Give me a hand up and I’ll help you with that.” He pointed to Coyote’s raising cock with his other hand.

Coyote Scout took his hands and was surprised at first when Hamish climbed onto him. He leaned his back against a wall, giving himself stability, while Hamish wrapped around him. Everything was throbbing now, wanting to touch and squeeze. From here he could feel more of the man’s form, from the musculature in his back to the fluffiness of his tail. His favorite became the curvature of his plump buttocks.

“This uh…this good?” Coyote asked, his face glowing with heat.

Hamish nodded, “This’ll do.”

He found Coyote’s cock and wrapped around it. He ended up wrapping two around it, stroking and squeezing. He wanted to feel with more, so he reached under with a third to play with his testicles.

Already he could feel Coyote Scout growing weak at the knees. He was overwhelmed by all the attention. “It’s not too much, is it?” Hamish fretted.

“It’s…amazing,” Coyote breathed.

“Tell me if you need me to slow down…I’m uh…” he had a few tentacles feeling Coyote Scout’s butt cheeks, and the urge to split them and get inside of him was growing stronger.

“It’s okay,” Coyote insisted, “I want to know what you can do.” His voice was breathy but excited. “I can push my limits, easy.”

“Alright,” Hamish hesitated, debating his options, “If I were to…I don’t know…try some of those things from that movie…at the same time…would that be-”

“Do it!” Coyote exclaimed, a smile splitting his face.

“Okay,” Hamish was taken aback by how suddenly Coyote Scout had delighted in the thought.

“Do whatever you want with whatever you want,” Coyote begged through a groan escaping his throat.

“I mean…I don’t want to push it,” Hamish insisted, realizing that this should have been a talk they had before he had the man’s whole undercarriage covered in tentacles.

“God I want it all…all of it!” Coyote said eagerly.

“If you say so,” Hamish paused before continuing, “Just tell me when and where to stop.”

Coyote nodded and closed his eyes. He leaned his head back against the wall, while his hips tried to thrust into the tentacles tangled around his manhood. His hands grappled with the stall wall, despite having nothing to dig into.

Hamish kept himself secure with his arms around Coyote Scout’s shoulders. Spurred on, he pulled the cheeks apart and reached for that little entrance. It felt so small and tight. It needed a little time and work to get it to open up and let a fraction of his tentacle in. All the while, Coyote was delighting in all of this, and even moved his legs a little farther apart to make things easier.

He let his instincts get the best of him. He let his tentacles feel everything. Though he did wish there was enough space to dig another tentacle into Coyote’s warm rectum. He wrapped around everything, down his thighs, along his arms, around his torso, even underneath and between the man’s legs.

Suddenly the Scout cried out. Hamish looked and saw cum spurting into the drain below, as Coyote reached his peak. He chuckled in amusement as he felt around for the button he must have stimulated in Coyote’s rectum. Coyote slapped a hand over his mouth, panting and groaning.

“Oh right…you need to stop?” Hamish gave him an awkward smile. He did not want to stop, not while he was having so much fun, but he knew what it was like to be pushed right into another round without recouping.

“No,” Coyote Scout removed his hand from his mouth, “Keep going. Don’t slow down. Don’t stop until you’re done with me.”

Hamish was a bit shocked at this response, “Are you sure?” He loosened his grip on Coyote’s dick. “I’m okay with a break if you need a minute.”

“No!” Coyote immediately covered his mouth, not having meant to say this so loud, “I mean, I don’t want to. I am having the best sex in a long fucking time. I want it to last until you can’t go anymore.”

“But, what about when _you_ can’t go anymore?” Hamish pressed.

“Then use me,” Coyote clawed at Hamish’s shoulders, “Use me until you’re more than finished.”

“It’s going to be a while before I’m finished,” Hamish explained, “I don’t think your body can handle that kind of stimulation.”

“Don’t. Fucking. Stop,” Coyote Scout sounded more commanding and serious than anything else, despite panting.

Hamish bit his lip as he took a grip of the man’s cock again. Coyote fell back into the throes of pleasure. His eyes rolled back and so did his head.

“Does this…even do anything…for you?” Coyote panted.

“Could do a little more,” Hamish slipped a tentacle between Coyote Scout’s lips. His lips closed around it and his eyes popped open wide. He stared at Hamish, wordless and taken aback. Hamish said nothing for a while, as he felt around with the tip, drawing circles on the soft warm tongue. There was a strong urge to shove more into his mouth, and to reach into his throat. “You could suck on this?”

Coyote Scout reacted immediately, suckling on the tentacle like something sweet might come out. He kept his eyes on Hamish’s face, as if waiting for something else to happen. There was an alertness to his behavior that made Hamish wary of pushing limits. He would not feel around Coyote’s throat today. Maybe another time he could get more acquainted with his insides.

A gentle hand laid on the tentacle in Coyote’s mouth. Hamish watched warily as Coyote pulled upward. He was puzzled until the man opened his mouth to take more of it. Despite the little thought in the back of his mind telling him to reach down into the Coyote Scout’s throat until he could not reach further, he pulled back a bit. He did not want the Scout freaking out over anything. He might be enjoying all of this, but sometimes men found their limits in the worst ways.

“I thought you wanted me to suck on it,” Coyote said around his tentacle.

“I want you to suck on the tip,” he informed him, keeping his answer clear but simple.

Before long, Hamish found himself needing to shift. He did not have one dick, he had ten throbbing tentacles. And they all wanted a different stimulation. He pulled each one away from its task, which began to confuse the Coyote Scout. Hamish replaced the previous tentacle, letting him suckle on a new one, almost to reassure him. In the meanwhile, he changed the other tentacles, wetting a different one in his ass while another wrapped around Coyote’s cock. The man was going soft though, and it did not seem like he would last as long as he had hoped.

He watched Coyote’s face for any signs of distress. It was clear that the stimulation was starting to become too much, but he would not stop. Hamish was about ready to call it quits, if only just to give Coyote Scout a break.

And then it hit him like a house of bricks. His vision felt white and he could taste a rainbow. He could smell the sunset as his mind hung in a cloud. When he came down he realized that he was clinging to Coyote harder than ever before. Coyote was tapping his back, close to smacking him with a desperate kind of shuddering.

Hamish raised his head to find that in the moment of lost clarity, he had stuffed his tentacle down the man’s throat. Desperate for breath, he was trying to pull it out. All the while, it was numb with the red hue slowly fading. He barely even felt the pressure of Scout’s desperate attempts to release the sucker covered limb from his throat.

“Relax,” Hamish insisted, “Stop pulling. You’re making it impossible to release.” Coyote stopped pulling and he carefully pulled his tentacle out. It was his turn to be red with embarrassment this time, “Sorry.”

He carefully unraveled himself from Coyote’s appendages. He regrettably vacated his ass. Though, now that the stimulation was no longer needed, he did not feel the urge to slip every digit into him. He released every tentacle from Coyote’s body and let himself down.

Coyote was panting tiredly, “Are you kidding me? That was amazing!”

“I didn’t mean to choke you,” Hamish insisted, “I sort of lost it when I hit peak.”

“No kidding!” Coyote gestured to the cum dripping over his body before stepping under the water. He really was a mess, from his hair down to his feet.

“You enjoyed it?” Hamish inquired.

“At the moment, didn’t enjoy the choking, but it didn’t do any harm. You seemed like you were convulsing and didn’t know you were doing it,” Coyote’s breathing slowed as he gathered his wits. He grabbed some soap and began lathering his hair and body. “Ten out of ten, would do again.”

Hamish grinned up at him, “And you’re quite the…” He hesitated, searching for a word he was not sure existed. “You were amazing.”

Coyote Scout grinned, “Yea, I’m pretty amazing.”

“I didn’t think a man could have that much fortitude,” Hamish praised him.

“Takes a lot to get that good at it,” Coyote Scout chuckled.

“You get laid a lot?” Hamish inquired curiously, “You made it sound like you had not had any sex in a long while.”

“Well…I mean…” Coyote avoided eye contact for a minute, “I haven’t had…in a while…but like…before…I had it like all the time.”

Hamish chuckled in amusement, “I’m sure you did.”

“It’s true! I had a boyfriend for a…while…” Coyote cleared his throat awkwardly, “But there was a time when I had like a lot of guys. And I mean like a lot of guys!”

“I’m not doubting you,” Hamish chuckled.

“Uh, do you want to use my soap to wash?” Coyote gestured to the soaps he brought with him.

“If you don’t mind,” Hamish shrugged sheepishly. He had nothing to his name, not even a shirt to put on his back. He did not want to go to the infirmary shower just to take its soaps.

Coyote gestured to each bottle, “Body wash, shampoo and conditioner.”

“Right,” he picked up the body wash to scrub himself clean. He was starting to feel relaxed though and wondered if he would even make it back to his tank. He was so sleepy.


	9. Friends With Benefits Can Come With Comfort

The exhaustion got to Hamish hard, and he was grateful to Coyote Scout for carrying him from the common showers to the infirmary. He had the man dump him off on one of the beds. No way was he swimming to his bed. Besides, the moment he was sat on top of the bed, he realized how much he missed laying on an actual bed. You cannot have a plush cushy bed if you are soaking in water.

“Thanks mate,” he said as Coyote took a step back.

“Don’t mention it,” Coyote said, pausing for a moment’s thought, “And this stays between us. If you tell anyone, I’ll tell them I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Hamish chuckled, amused at how he thought he was somehow intimidating, “I get it. Now go on. I’m going to fall asleep here.”

“You sure you’ll be alright?” Coyote looked across the room at the tank.

Hamish was already laying down, cuddling up against the pillow, “I’ll be fine. Just need a nap.” He yawned loudly.

“Alright,” Coyote saluted, “See you around.”

With that, Coyote left. Hamish laid his head on the pillow and closed his eye. He felt so at peace now, letting his body relax. The bed was so soft and comfortable too.

Hamish jerked and opened his eye as he heard a loud voice shouting. He blinked and tried to make sense of what was going on. He was sure he had only just laid his head down for a nap.

“What are you doing, getting the beds wet?” Medic’s voice was a little higher pitched in his moment of frustration, “Those are for patients! Now I have to wash the sheets again!”

Hamish sat up, blinking away the sleepiness. He could not refrain from yawning as he wondered if he slept at all. He was still drowsy either way.

“I don’t exactly have a-” Medic immediately cut him off.

“You have your tank!” Medic gestured dramatically towards it, “You have your own space to be in!”

“Yea, but I don’t really have a bed. Just rock and water,” Hamish argued, “Fake rock anyways.”

“That’s as close to a normal octopus habitat as we could get,” Medic protested, “You can’t just come take over the infirmary, just because you want to!”

Hamish’s good mood fell quickly. He tightened his lip and glared at the Medic, “I don’t have my own space. I don’t have my own bed. All I _have_ is that glass box you put me in and called it a day over.”

“You have your own space in there!” Medic protested.

“Yea, soaking in water,” Hamish argued. He did not mind the water usually, but he had forgotten how nice it was just to be in a warm bed. “Just lukewarm water and rough rocky area to lay on.”

“Well, I’m sorry!” the declaration was clearly sarcastic, “We didn’t have the budget to get the smoothest materials possible for your majesty!”

Hamish’s jaw dropped a bit. He was not sure what to respond at first, taken aback at the Medic’s audacity. He took a breath and slipped off the bed, “I wouldn’t have stuck around your damn infirmary, if I’d have known that taking a cat nap on one of the board hard medical beds would have been such a damn problem after weeks of nothing but rock to sleep on!”

“Well excuse-” Medic cut off as Hamish started towards the door, “Where are you going?”

“Anywhere but here!” he hurried to get through the door. He felt excruciatingly slow, but was satisfied to throw the door shut after he got out.

He moved into the hallway and realized that he had nowhere to go. His tank was the only space he had. While normally a swim was not so bad, he did not feel like holding his breath. He did not want to dive through water just to get to a private space. In truth, he could not call it a private space at all, due to the glass that let others look in as he looked out.

He decided to go for a _walk_ around the base. He needed to clear his head first. After he cleared his head, then his head could tell him where he was meant to go.

He did not get far, before he rounded a corner and found Chameleon. The Spy was standing there with a cigarette in hand. He looked like he was waiting for something or somebody.

He assumed Chameleon was busy. Besides, he did not want to take out his anger on his friend. He was upset with the Medic, but that was no reason for him to take it out on Chameleon.

“You look quite frustrated,” Chameleon commented.

“I’m…going for a walk to clear my head,” Hamish said, keeping his eye on the hallway past the Spy.

“After your earlier playdate with Coyote, I would have thought you would be in your usual jolly mood,” Chameleon stated.

Hamish froze, his face growing hot. Of course the Spy knew. It was always a Spy who would know. He was not sure how he knew, unless he had been sneaking around and caught them. Part of him worried he might tattle, but part of him was sure that his friend would not make the mistake of outing him after what they did for each other. Then again, Chameleon might be a jealous type of person.

“Come. Let’s go have drinks in my office,” Chameleon beckoned him to follow.

With a small huff, he followed the man to another hall leading to his recreational room. Chameleon unlocked the door and admitted him inside. He remained silent as he made his way to the couch and climbed up into the seat. He waited as Chameleon fetched glasses and brandy, before sitting across from him. He offered Hamish a glass of brandy on ice before sitting down.

Hamish stared at the dark liquid for a while, regarding what it would do to his senses. It would relieve him of stress and anger. He was never stressed out when he was buzzed or drunk. At the same time, it could loosen his lips right up about anything. He was not sure he was ready to be loose-lipped just yet.

“What is on your mind?” Chameleon asked, crossing one leg over the other knee.

“I…it’s nothing,” Hamish explained, wishing the topic would be dropped.

“You are always so jolly and playful,” Chameleon said, with a slightly sad tone, “It is upsetting to see you like this.”

“Sorry I can’t always be ho ho ho jolly,” Hamish mumbled. He caved and took a sip of the brandy. It went down his throat nice and warm, in the most inviting way.

“I…well, you have me there. You’re allowed to be upset. I just mean that seeing you upset makes me feel…well…not myself,” Chameleon’s words perked curiosity from Hamish, “I’m not one to get attached to other people, but you’re a jovial and likable guy. It’s hard to think of you being upset. So, what’s wrong?”

Hamish sighed as he relented, “I had a fight with the Medic.”

“A fight?” Chameleon looked stunned.

“No punches thrown, I promise,” Hamish raised his free hand defensively, “I just…he woke me up screaming about how I was making a bed a mess.” He ran the free hand over his face, resisting the oncoming urge to roar and scream about it. “I just wanted to have a nap on something soft for once! Is that so much to ask for?” his own words tugged at something painful. He had to swallow a lump in his throat.

“Not at all,” Chameleon shook his head, “What happened?”

“I was tired, you know? I was just…I needed a nap. My tank is just water. Water and fake rocks. They aren’t smooth either. I sleep on fake rocks that are hard and rough. It’s not…it’s not a bed,” Hamish rubbed his eye with his fingers as they burned with tears. “I don’t complain. I try to keep to my tank, but…how am I supposed to be in my own space if it’s just a tank of water in the infirmary? I just wanted a wee nap on a soft spot! Is that too much for a request?” The tears had broken the barrier and were not blurring his vision.

Chameleon set his drink down, “No it’s not. Why didn’t you tell anybody you’re uncomfortable in your tank?”

“I didn’t want to complain,” he tried to fight back the tears but they were already dripping down his face. He leaned back on the couch, realizing just how much more comfortable it was than sitting in his tank. “I’m not ungrateful for what I’ve got,” he tried to steady his voice but it shook regardless, “I just didn’t think I’d be hollered at for laying my head down somewhere else for a short while.”

He looked down at his glass and frowned. There was no point in hesitation, so he sent it down his throat in large gulps. He relished the feeling while it lasted, then set the glass of ice on the coffee table.

He was startled by a hand touching his shoulder. He was even more surprised to find that Chameleon had moved to sit beside him. He rubbed Hamish’s shoulder and used a thumb to brush away the tears from his cheeks.

“I know Medic can be a bit…well much…” Chameleon sighed, “He forgets sometimes that while his work is hard, it’s hard to be…like we are.”

Hamish looked down at his lower half. He missed life as a normal human being. He missed the simplest of things that came with it. He could walk around quickly, being as long-legged as he was. He could properly defend himself in situations if he was himself. At least Chameleon had that. He was not normal, but he could still walk around like everything was normal.

“It’s nice to know I have friends to turn to,” Hamish sniffled.

He felt his cheeks grow warm as soft lips pressed against his cheek. He looked at Chameleon, not sure of what to say. It was a soft and tender kind of kiss that meant something.

“Good friends. Friends with benefits maybe, but friends with benefits can take care of other needs as well,” Chameleon squeezed his shoulder.

“What do you mean?” he blinked away the bleariness in his eye.

“Come here,” Chameleon wrapped his arms around him. He pulled Hamish right into his lap, holding him close. He gently wiped more tears from his face, using gentle brushing gestures with his thumb. “You’ve been through a lot,” Chameleon said softly, “You deserve something soft.”

Hamish looked up at him for a moment, before laying his head against him. Chameleon’s chin rested atop his head as he leaned into the hug. The warm body was not exactly what he had in mind for napping on, but it was the most comforting thing he had had happen to him in the longest time.

He must have stayed like this for so long. He had no idea how many hours they were there like this. He just did not want to move. Eventually Chameleon shifted, wordlessly expressing some physical discomfort. He shifted off of his lap and watched him stretch his muscles.

“Sorry,” Hamish mumbled.

“It’s alright,” Chameleon sighed, “Just have a tight spot in my back.”

“Want me to rub it out?” Hamish offered.

“Would you?” a glimmer of a hopeful look glinted in Chameleon’s eye.

“Sure,” Hamish nodded, “Take your shirt off and lay down.”

Chameleon rose to his feet. His body took the liberty of making him stretch instinctively. When he managed to stop stretching his arms, he removed his jacket and vest. It took a bit longer to remove his button up shirt, as there were many more buttons on it. There was a white wife beater underneath the shirt, and as soon as that was off, Hamish was definitely staring. Sure, maybe he was looking for a bit long before, but this time he was blatantly staring.

He was not an impressive man, but definitely an attractive one. A strange scar crawled up one side under his arm, disappearing to his armpit. He was built similarly to Coyote Scout, with a set of well-toned abs set to a straight down stick-like figure. The most intriguing part was just how hairy he was, with a decent amount of gray and black chest hair, and a trail that led down from his belly button to the upper edge of his waistband.

Hamish shook thoughts away, his face hot as red coals. He put a smile on his face and focused on Chameleon’s face, while the man laid down on his belly. Hamish wondered and hoped that Chameleon noticed how awed he was at his nude figure. He liked to think that Chameleon noticed and was hiding a smirk as he laid down.

Hamish crawled over his legs and positioned himself atop his buttocks. He laid his palms flat on his back to stabilize himself. “Where’s the pain, lad?” he inquired.

Chameleon reached around to indicate with his thumb, “Around here.”

“Middle back pain,” Hamish noted, “That’ll do it.”

He got to work, with his thumbs digging into the muscle. It was not long before Chameleon was groaning, both in pain and relief. He buried his face against the couch, with his arms folded over his head.


	10. Not a Bird, Not a Man, It's a Bird Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hamish gets closer to Bird Soldier

Chameleon strolled with Hamish down to the kitchen. They were glad to get there when they did, in hopes of getting some food before the rest devoured most of the easy to cook stuff. Hamish did not have the height or desire to cook and Chameleon did not like cooking for very long. They decided on a very simple cheesy noodle recipe that Chameleon knew.

They were sitting down at the dining table to eat the cheesy noodles when a robot came lumbering in. It was closely followed by Bird Soldier. The Soldier paused a moment to consider them with a big eye. He then preceded to the kitchen where the bot had gone.

Hamish shrugged off the awkward interaction and began stuffing his face with more cheesy noodles. “This is good,” his words were muffled around a mouthful of food.

“Thank you,” Chameleon offered a smile, “An old friend taught me the recipe. It’s quite helpful in a pinch and does not take long to-” He cut off as a loud metallic screech came from the kitchen area.

“The hell was that?!” Hamish looked from the door to the Spy incredulously.

Chameleon shook his head, “Lousy bots. They’re not built for doing tasks like cooking.”

“Then why is it cooking? Oh wait…he needs to eat. I suppose he would do his best to cook then, huh?” Hamish rubbed his chin as he thought this over. He was suddenly reminded of the scraggly short beard he was growing.

“You would think he would build one that could do these tasks to help take care of him,” Chameleon shook his head, “For all his genius, he’s a moron.”

“Build? Wait…who builds the bots?” Hamish inquired.

“Automan,” Chameleon explained.

“Never seen him around,” Hamish shrugged.

“He never comes around,” Chameleon brushed off the suggestion, “He hides in his own space until he has to come out. Even that is few and far between.”

“Doesn’t he need to…you know…do things?” Hamish asked.

“He doesn’t like to come out,” Chameleon said, “He used to get pity from those who would take things to him. Even Medic still takes the medical checkups to him. He’s not very mobile.”

“Well, if he’s not very mobile, then we should help him, right?” Hamish argued, “It’s hard getting around like I do. I can’t imagine how he’s fairing on his own.”

“You’ve only just gotten here some…six weeks ago, I believe,” Chameleon explained, “Not to mention you’re polite.”

“Ah, so you don’t like an impolite jerk,” Hamish said pointedly.

Chameleon gave him a glare. It told Hamish enough about the relationship between Chameleon and this Automan.

“Spare me the ridicule,” Chameleon’s voice grew a bit angry, “He’s been here far longer than even I. And don’t start giving him your kindness. I know what you’re thinking about doing.”

“What? No you don’t!” Hamish protested.

“Yes, I do,” Chameleon insisted, “You’re too kind a person. You wouldn’t leave somebody like that to fend for themselves.”

“That’s true. So why do you have to be like that? He’s immobile, as you said,” Hamish explained.

They both paused as they heard a crash. It sounded like a pot or pan hit the floor. There was some metallic stomping around the kitchen. This was followed by a short bird-like screech.

“He takes advantage of the pity he can get. He’s walked all over everybody in this facility. Even Medic doesn’t really keep a good leash on his behavior,” Chameleon rolled his eyes and took another bite of noodles.

“That’s a bit unfair,” Hamish insisted. When he received a glare, he countered it with, “Just a little bit.” He took a moment for another bite of noodles. “Look, you got to still remember the man’s in a bad situation too. We all are. Besides, it isn’t like Medic hasn’t tried. First I ran into one of those things, it was Medic who started going off on him about how rude he was.”

“Medic has his moments,” Chameleon confessed, “Kindness and good virtues…and anger with vindication.”

“Still, it doesn’t sound like the bot’s doing much-” Hamish cut off as it sounded like somebody got slammed with a pan.

Chameleon sighed and went into the kitchen. Hamish hoped that he was giving in to help the bot cook, but shortly after his disappearance, Hamish could hear him and one other voice yelling at each other. He stuffed one more bite into his mouth before he got down from the bench and headed to the kitchen.

On one side was the bot, with the voice coming through it. Chameleon stood before it, yelling at it and pointing to it. Behind him was Bird Soldier, cradling his head in his hands with his eyes closed. He did not seem to like the noise.

He went immediately to Bird Soldier to check on him. He did not seem to be doing well, and Hamish figured he would feel better to know that somebody had his back. When Hamish touched his arm, Bird Soldier’s eye snapped open, releasing the tear he must have been holding back.

“You alright mate?” he rubbed Bird Soldier’s arm, trying to calm him down.

Bird Soldier rubbed a spot on his head, as if it hurt. He pointed to the bot, then to his head. Again, he resumed rubbing the pain.

“Augh!” Hamish turned to join Chameleon, “Did you hit him?” Now he saw the pain in the bot’s hand.

“It was getting in the way,” the voice said, “I was trying to warn him and I ended up hitting him in the head!”

“What were you swinging a damn pan for? You were _trying_ to hit him!” Hamish exclaimed.

“No, I wasn’t,” the voice protested.

“Don’t give me that bullcrap! You just said you hit him!” Hamish raised his voice a bit, “And with the pan?! What he hell were you swinging it for?”

“It was self-defense,” the voice protested.

“It’s not self-defense if it’s a robot against somebody who can’t speak!” Hamish pointed to Bird Soldier.

“He can handle himself,” the voice argued.

“That’s no excuse,” Chameleon said sternly.

“You don’t have any place to be swinging kitchenware at anybody here!” Hamish declared, “Apologize!” 

“Sorry you feel entitled to an apology,” the voice growled.

“To him, you git!” Hamish pointed to Bird Soldier again.

“He won’t understand,” the voice growled.

Bird Soldier raised his head and looked to Hamish. Hamish felt hot as a furnace. He could not say for sure what Bird Soldier felt or what he was trying to express, but Hamish knew how he would feel. He moved towards the bot and grabbed its arm.

“You apologize right now!” he raised his voice as he tried to pull on the arm.

“Get your damn hands off my equipment!” the voice barked.

“Not until you apologize!” Hamish barked.

“I’m growing tired of this,” Chameleon stepped towards the robot and smacked something against it. Suddenly every part of it started to jolt and jerk, before it exploded into bits. Hamish covered his head with his arms, ducking as debris flew outwards. “There, it’s deal with,” Chameleon growled, “For now.”

“Warn a man next time!” Hamish exclaimed.

“It would have warned him,” Chameleon argued, shaking his head, “He would have activated actual self-defense protocols that the bots have.”

“Fair, but will he send another here?” Hamish asked.

Chameleon regarded this for a moment, touching his fingers to his face. His eye color changed again, but Hamish was growing used to that. When they turned to him, they were a shining green hue of emerald.

“Stay with Bird Soldier. I’m going to go have a chat with Medic,” Chameleon ordered, turning to Bird Soldier, “Think you can handle him?” He gestured to Hamish.

Bird Soldier nodded very slowly. Satisfied, the chameleon disappeared, vanishing from sight. Hamish was left wondering why he felt he had to disappear when they could see that he opened and closed the door behind himself.

Bird Soldier sprinted to the counter and grabbed a big bowl. He poured cereal into it, tossed in nuts and a couple of apples. He snatched a banana and broke off a small branch of grapes from the bunch to add to his collection. He grabbed a spoon and tossed it into his bowl. He turned, with the bowl in one hand, and used the other arm to scoop up Hamish.

By now he was used to this gesture, and just relaxed under Bird Soldier’s arm. He was about to protest when they passed the table that still held the plates of cheesy noodles, but decided against it. Bird Soldier was in a hurry, and he had an idea about why. He personally did not want to have to deal with another bot without Chameleon there to help. Chameleon was the only person who had proven he could handle the bots, even if it was just with a sapper.

Bird Soldier carried him outside and into a shed. He was a bit worried at first, until they started up a set of stairs. Bird Soldier was tireless, hurrying up the steps like his life depended on it. They wooden steps creaked beneath his boots, but he did not slow his pace.

He halted at the top of the stairs and let Hamish down onto the ground. They were up in some sort of tower, a worn out place that was no longer used for its intended purpose. A quick glance around proved that Bird Soldier made himself at home here. It was something like a nest, with what appeared to be all of his personal belongings stashed in this place.

Some crates had been moved around and arranged to form the bases of furniture. Blankets, pillows and other soft things like cotton stuffing and teddy bears were used to turn these crates into comfortable seats and a bed. Bird Soldier sat down on one of these, so Hamish joined him on the crate beside him. Bird Soldier was almost immediately distracted by the food in his bowl, tearing into the apples, while trying to scoop nuts and cereal into his mouth with the spoon. He had an almost instinctive need to peck at the bowl, similar to how he had seen birds behave. Still, he was adamant about using the spoon and trying to behave almost human-like. That he was so focused on devouring the food was enough to show Hamish that this was not a display for him, but rather a normal part of Bird Soldier’s ritual.

He remained mostly quiet as he let Bird Soldier finish his food. He noticed the cool breeze as it blew through the windows up here. There was only broken glass left in these windows, leaving this place open to the weather. It was quite relaxing.

“I can see why you’d pick this place for your own space,” Hamish said, “It’s quite nice. Spacious. And the wind feels good on the skin.”

He was startled when something touched his tentacle. His head whipped around to look. He watched Bird Soldier’s hand gently patting the tentacle laid nearest to him, in a gesture that resembled patting a person’s hand. He decided to take it as that kind of gesture, as it did not last long anyways. Bird Soldier was soon munching on his strange mix of food again.

Hamish closed his eyes and leaned back on his hands. He had forgotten what the crisp fresh air felt like against his face and in his hair. He had forgotten how free one could feel up high. He had forgotten how much fun it was to fly.

“Think I better find my own place soon,” he said aloud. Bird Soldier cocked his head like he was listening, but he continued eating. “Everybody has their own space. I’m quite cramped up in the infirmary. I’m quite sick of not having privacy either. You know what I mean?” He looked to Bird Soldier, who patted his tentacle again. Hamish nodded, “You get it. Doc was yelling at me earlier. I fell asleep on one of his beds. I couldn’t help I was exhausted, and I can’t actually breathe under water. It’s not a good combination to go swimming when you’re that tired. It gets harder to breathe.”

Bird Soldier picked up his tentacle. He gave it a gentle squeeze as he held it like a hand. Hamish did not mind at all. He felt the gesture was meant to signify that Bird Soldier respected this part of his body as the same as his hands.

“You understand the unpleasant feeling of being woken up by screaming, right?” Hamish turned to him for a yes or no answer. That was when the heat struck him. He looked down at the tentacle slowly burning away the orange hue to swell into a red hue.

He pulled the tentacle away. This left Bird Soldier staring at his empty hand as if it had been slapped. He looked at the tentacle pulled away, then to Hamish. Hamish could feel the redness in his face. He wanted to bury himself somewhere right now.

“Um…fuck not again!” he scratched his scalp through his hair, trying to ease his own frustration after the repeat of what happened in Chameleon’s room.

Bird Soldier tilted his head, looking from the tentacle and back to him. There was a questioning look in his eye, Hamish was sure of that. He was not entirely sure but would bet that there was a bit of hurt there too.

“It’s not you,” he insisted, “You did nothing wrong. I’m sorry. It uh…it got…sensitive,” he lowered his voice, despite knowing that nobody else was around to hear him.

Bird Soldier tilted his head the other way. He made a tiny noise, as if trying to speak where there were no vocal cords for words.

“Well um…” he was not sure how to dispel this. Last time when it happened with Chameleon, it had been bad luck and lack of knowledge tied with good luck and a new friend with benefits. “It’s nothing serious,” he assured Bird Soldier, “I’m just sensitive when they turn red.” His tentacles curled upwards, throbbing and bemoaning the instinct to find a warm body and bury every one of them in it.

Bird Soldier changed the tilt of his head again. He pointed to the tentacles, looking to Hamish for explanation. He felt his face grow red, as the man wordlessly demanded explanation.

“Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt,” he played it off as if Bird Soldier was concerned for his wellbeing, “It’s just very sensitive. Like…um…something sensitive. I don’t know what to explain it with.”

Bird Soldier rubbed the side of his upper beak for a moment. He was regarding Hamish as he thought about this. He snapped his fingers, as if he had just realized something. Hamish watched him carefully as he pointed from the tentacles to Hamish himself. He could not possibly be redder when Bird Soldier pointed to his own crotch.

Hamish rubbed his face. His cheeks were burning like a wildfire. Now that it had started, it was not about to go out.

“Uh…yea I guess,” he hesitated a little, “Usually they’re just limbs. Sometimes they get sensitive and they’re like…my dicks.” He wanted to just bury his face, and his immediate solution was to cover it with his hands.

He gasped when he felt a hand on a tentacle. It was easily pulled out of its curled stance by a strong hand. He lowered his hands to look at Bird Soldier as he tried to handle it like an actual boner. It was stimulating, but the visual was too funny not to laugh. The man was trying to handle a boneless limb like an erect appendage with cartilage in it. The tentacle easily moved and wiggled, and other than throbbing, it did not feel the same in one’ s hand as a dick.

“They’re not actual dicks,” he insisted.

Bird Soldier pointed to himself then to Hamish and then made a jerking motion with his hand that looked similar to jacking somebody off. Hamish remained in stunned silence for a moment. He wanted to ask a bunch of questions about this. Chameleon was easy enough to figure out, being the curious creature that he was. Coyote Scout was a fun one to discover his kinky side. But here was Bird Soldier without a way to communicate with him in clear words why he would want to do this.

“If you truly want to, I won’t mind,” Hamish gave him a smile that felt too sheepish to be on a grown man’s face.

Bird Soldier made a sound similar to a whistle. He took the tentacle again and began stroking it. He tried to multitask, taking on several tentacles at the same time between his two hands. He was not bad at it either, expressing some experience in handling men’s parts that had to come with years of sexual intercourse.

After a while, Bird Soldier stopped. They looked at each other and Bird Soldier looked away. Hamish blushed again, his face on fire as he realized that he probably made things awkward between them.

His thoughts were cut off when Bird Soldier began gesturing again. He pointed to Hamish then to his tentacles. He made a gesture using a fist and a cupped hand to indicate fisting. Then he pointed to himself.

Hamish gasped. He could not remember the last time he actually fisted a partner. He was astounded that Bird Soldier was up for jumping right into that, before hardly any lesser intimacy.

“You want me to fist you?!” he exclaimed.

Bird soldier shook his head and pointed to the tentacles again. Hamish sighed in relief to see that he really meant his tentacles. He gave Bird Soldier a smile.

“What’s with everyone and jumping into sex with me?” he asked.

Bird Soldier flinched and scooted away. He tapped his fingers together, looking timidly at them. Hamish kicked himself mentally for being a thoughtless asshole.

“I didn’t mean it in a…negative way or anything. I’m just…surprised. I consider you a friend,” he reached out to pat Bird Soldier’s shoulder. The creature’s reaction was to finally look up at him. “I’m just concerned…why you would want to jump into something like that…with me…so soon. I mean, right now we’re enjoying each other’s company, but maybe a week ago we had only just met.”

Bird Soldier slowly nodded, turning his gaze downward. Hamish scooted closer to him, gently squeezing his shoulder.

“What do you really want to do?” he asked, “We’ll do that. If it’s something else, let’s try it. If it’s sex, I’m for it.”

Bird Soldier hesitated before pointing to the tentacles then back at himself. His gaze returned to the floor directly afterwards.

“You want sex?” Hamish inquired to get confirmation of meaning. When Bird Soldier nodded in response, he slipped his tentacles around the Soldier’s middle, untucking his shirt to feel his warm skin. “I must warn you…I can be a little…intense…ten dicks and all. If it gets to be too much…well…tap me twice. Alright?”

Bird Soldier nodded, watching as Hamish undid the buttons of his shirt. Pulling it away he was impressed by the man’s build. He was fully tanned by the sun, with a thick body rippling with muscle. Where Coyote Scout and Chameleon were merely attractive, this man had the benefits of obvious strength and dexterity.

He grinned, running a hand up Bird Soldier’s chest. He was mildly surprised to find out that his _chest hair_ was actually tiny white feathers. He licked his lips as his hand travelled back down. He was relieved to find that down below was something familiar, that curly dark hair that trailed down to the man’s privates. He cupped a hand under his britches and was most surprised to find that he was fully erect, fighting the containment of his pants to break free of the space meant for a flaccid dick.

“Did I turn you on?” he blinked at Bird Soldier. When the man nodded, he grinned, “Is that why you suddenly wanted sex?” Bird Soldier nodded again, and Hamish found himself thrilled.

He unbuttoned the man’s pants and slipped two tentacles down into his underwear to wrap around his dick. He pulled off his pants, already reaching for his testes with a third tentacle. Bird Soldier’s eyes closed and his hips tried to thrust up into the stimulation.

He took a fourth tentacle and teased at his entrance. Bird Soldier spread his legs apart, showing interest. He spread him carefully with the tips of his tentacles, slowly working him open. When he felt open enough, he slipped a tentacle farther in, feeling around the tightening muscles for a particular button.

After having learned on Scout’s body, he found the spot fairly easily. The Bird Soldier squirmed and tilted his head back as he toyed around inside of him. The rest of his tentacles were curling up, burning with desire to wrap around and slip into Bird Soldier’s body. He ended up slowly letting each tentacle one by one tangle around a leg or his torso. He moved slowly while doing this, in case Bird Soldier protested.

Hamish moaned, but was suddenly cut off as Bird Soldier came. He had his beak hanging open and his head leaned back as he shivered through his peak. Hamish pulled out of him and untangled his tentacles, despite the overwhelming whimpering sensation that begged to keep rubbing against and penetrating this warm body.

“How was that?” Hamish asked breathily.

He offered a smile that he hoped was charming. Bird Soldier responded by scooting over to lay his head against Hamish’s chest. He smiled and ran his hand over the man’s head. He was surprised at how soft the feathers were. He continued playing his fingers through them, delighted at how soft he was. He was pretty sure that Bird Soldier fell asleep shortly after, but he did not mind, seeing as this was probably a first time in a long time for Bird Soldier to have some gentle and intimate touch like this. He could not blame the man for being woefully underprepared and completely worn out afterwards.


	11. Breaking and Entering

Hamish politely took his leave of Bird Soldier’s domain while he was sleeping. It would be a long trip down the stairs and he was not sure when the man would wake up. He had lulled him to sleep with comforting petting and warm cuddles, and he was not about to take that away from him.

He kept hoping the exit was around the corner, only to find more stairs. He huffed and puffed as he continued onward. He was determined to reach the bottom, even if there were a million steps.

Every part of his body leaped from his skin, his hackles rose and a small squeak escaped his throat when something touched him. He pinned his back against the wall and looked around, unsure of what to expect. He was certain that what he felt was not the wood of the staircase he was in, it had to be something or someone with clothes on.

A step creaked slowly, and he looked at it. It shifted, as if weight was being pressed into it very slowly. Before he could formulate more thought, he lashed out with a tentacle to see if there was anything there. His tentacle slapped against clothing and wrapped right around a firm leg.

“Who’s there? Chameleon?” it made sense for Chameleon to come and find him. The man had told Bird Soldier to watch over him.

He was surprised when instead of the assorted shift of colors, red smoke poured over the figure. Dressed to the nines in a fancy suit, with gleaming gold toggles and a matching fedora, a Spy towered over his head. He glared down his crooked nose at Hamish, regarding him with an eerie distance that kept his features at an awkward angle to Hamish below.

“Get your filthy leg off mine!” the Spy snapped with a condescending tone.

“The hell are you doing here? Who are you?” Hamish demanded. He froze as the short muzzle of a colt 38 pointed at his face.

“I would be saying my prayers if I were you,” the man sneered.

Hamish froze for a moment, raising his hands. He was too damn sober to be dealing with this intruder. He held his hands up, keeping his eyes on the man’s face. He took a deep breath as he put all of his strength into pulling on the leg. He yanked hard and fast, pulling the leg towards himself, so the man would lose his balance.

The Spy crashed to the floor, banging his head against the wall. The gun fell from his hand, leaving him defenseless. Hamish quickly climbed over the man’s legs and grabbed his neck in both hands. The Spy grabbed his wrists, but had no leverage to push him away. Hamish put all of his strength into crushing his throat, holding tight until the man passed out. He held his throat shut, waiting until the blood in his veins stopped moving.

He panted, aghast and exhausted. He started making his way down the stairs again, intent on finding somebody to tell about this intruder. He was too far down the stairs to climb _up_ and get Bird Soldier. There was no way he was climbing these steps himself ever again.

When he finally reached the bottom, he was not as relieved as he would have been before. He was still shaking from the fight. It left a small rush of adrenaline in the back of his mind to know he won that fight. Even better, he had killed the intruder with his bare hands.

Inside the base, lights were blaring in an emergency. He did not spend time looking around, making his way through the base to where he hoped he might find Chameleon. His friend would be best suited to help him out.

“Intruder alert!” the Administrator’s familiar voice called out, “Intruder alert!”

“Yea, yea I know,” Hamish grumbled.

He rounded a corner and started for the infirmary doors. Chameleon had initially gone to see the Medic earlier. Maybe he would be there. If not, the Medic might know where he had gone.

Before he reached the doors, he heard a loud Russian voice demanding, “Where is he? Where is experiment?!”

He flinched, his hair standing on end. He did not recognize this voice, but then again it could be that there were others in the base he had not met yet. He pressed his ear to the door, listening intently for more.

“You won’t find him here,” the Medic growled, a dark and foreboding voice full of mirth and hatred.

“You’ll talk,” an American accent cut in, some silly sounding voice from the Eastern States, “Or we’ll _make you_ talk.”

“Little man is serious,” the big Russian warned, “He is also lunatic.”

“Shut up, fat man. Nobody asked you!” the American barked.

Medic barked a laugh, “You’re not even organized enough to find him. You won’t get anything out of here!”

“Oh yea?” the American asked, “Challenge accepted!”

Hamish slowly pushed the door open, peeping inside. From this angle, he could see Chameleon on the floor. His heart dropped as he stared at him. To his relief, Chameleon moved slightly, indicating that he was still alive.

Hamish kept the door barely open as he slipped through. His heart reached out, wanting to go to Chameleon’s aid. Upon entering the room, it became clear that Medic was in more need of dire help than anyone. With a bloody nose and a bruised eye, the man looked clearly roughed up. A lanky Scout and a big Heavy were the ones immediately interrogating him, both armed with guns ready to blow his head open.

Nearby the tank, there were a couple more mercenaries. One man wore a Soldier’s helmet, looking the glass up and down as if he was in awe of how big it was. The other was a tall dark man, not unlike himself, armed with a familiar explosives launcher. Just laying his eyes on the tool set his heart to pounding with fervent excitement.

As soon as he could lay eyes on the man’s weapons, the man could also lay eyes on him. Hamish slipped away under a table, pulling himself out of sight. He had the upper hand, watching the man’s boots as he drew nearer.

As soon as the man came around the table, Hamish grabbed his knees and pulled him down to the ground. The man fell on his front, scrabbling on his hands and knees. Hamish could not reach with his arms, so instead grabbed his neck with a tentacle, sufficiently choking him with pressure. The man struggled to get the tentacle off, fighting with it and trying to mouth words. The more he struggled, the bigger his eyes grew.

After adding a second tentacle to secure the man’s death, Hamish turned his attention to the others in the room. None of them noticed their team’s only black man disappearing from sight. Nor could they hear the attempted gasps for air. They were completely oblivious to the man’s eventual unconsciousness, as well as the stop of his heart.

Hamish peered from the table at the Soldier. The man was just starting to realize that his comrade was missing. He looked around the corner of the tank for him, peering around like the man could have fit where only a mouse could go.

Hamish snuck from the table to the tank. He kept a watchful eye on the other two men interrogating the Medic. He did not pay attention to what they were saying, as he had better things to focus on. He heard a small hiss and turned the other way, freezing as he locked eyes with Chameleon. He immediately put his finger to his lips, hoping the man would remain hushed.

He climbed up the edge of the tank. He moved as quietly and quickly as he possibly could. He was glad he reached the height that he did before the Soldier turned around. He did not even look up, not even for a moment.

When Hamish reached down to cover his mouth and pull him up, the man dropped his gun. Hamish dragged him over the edge and into the water. With the water doing all the work, he just focused on holding the man down. The water was higher than a man was tall, so it was fairly easy to keep him under, until his mouth opened like a fish to gasp in desperation.

He left the drowning man and climbed over the edge. He was gasping for air, glad that he had trained to hold his breath far longer than most men did. The noise drew attention, as the two intruders left turned their attentions to him. Medic was wide eyed as he stared at him.

“The fuck? There he is!” the Scout pointed at Hamish and looked to the Heavy, “Get him!”

The big Russian man charged at him full force. He tried dropping down, but the big man caught him partway, with his big hand around his throat. He did not crush his throat, only holding him in place against the glass so he could not escape. A satisfied smile crept across the big man’s face.

“Caught him!” the Heavy reveled in his triumph.

“Good! Now let’s get the Soldier and the Demo and get out of here!” Scout gestured with his shotgun, while his eyes searched for the two he spoke of, “Where are they? Dammit…why is Soldier swimming in the pool? Get him out of there!”

Hamish wrapped tentacles around the arm holding him, despite knowing that this would do nothing for him. He reached further, wrapping three tentacles around his neck. He bit his lip, praying to some unknown god in the heavens that he could beat this guy.

The big man laughed, “Little squid is afraid! Don’t be scared, Heavy is gentle. Will take you back with gentle hands.”

“So much for gentle hands,” he groaned out through the tight grip on his neck, “The feeling’s not mutual!”

He took a deep breath and squeezed as hard as he could. The man’s eyes bulged as his throat closed. It was a struggle to force it shut tighter. This man had cords of muscle like they were made of iron.

Suddenly the man let go of Hamish’s neck and grabbed at the tentacles, clawing at them desperately. Hamish’s fell, but he clung tightly to the man’s neck and arm. He dared not let go. He pulled himself up, fighting against the man trying to claw him off. He at least was able to use his grip of one arm to his advantage, holding it extended out so it could not scratch nails across the skin of his soft orange limbs.

“What the hell are you doing?” Scout barked.

Heavy had his mouth open, trying to gasp for air. He clawed at the tentacles with his free hand, while his other hand tried to point at his problem. Hamish struggled to keep his grip on the man, desperately trying to hold out until the man collapsed.

“Gotta do everything myself,” the Scout sighed.

Hamish had no idea what hit him, but it struck him right across the head. Every part of his body sort of went limp for a moment, causing him to fall to the ground. He was dizzily recovering, when a hand grabbed a tentacle. He tried to grab the arm, but it quickly yanked away. Other hands joined, and the tentacles were being bound together with what felt like something made of cold aluminum.

“There,” the Scout brushed off his britches.

Hamish was finally recovering his vision, looking up at the Scout and the Heavy. The Heavy kept his distance, rubbing his neck. He had this look in his eye that spoke of absolute fear.

He looked down to see that the tentacles were interconnected with a series of cuffs meant for hands. Unfortunately for these numbskulls, he had no hands at the ends of his tentacles. They did not even notice just how stupid their plan was.

“Let’s get him to the car and find Spy,” the Scout threw a thumb towards the door.

Heavy nodded and grabbed onto one of the cuff chains. He started dragging Hamish across the ground like some lamb for slaughter. He could have laughed all the way to the car, but decided to make his escape rather quick, easily slipping each tentacle out of their cuffs. He did not even have to sit up to do it, given the dexterity of his tentacles.

When Heavy realized that the chain no longer had any weight on it, he stopped and turned to see Hamish. He did not rise too high, given he was rather short on tentacles. Still, he did his best to put on his most threatening look.

“You’re going to have to be a little smarter than that, lads!” he declared.

Heavy hesitated, looking unsure. He wanted to be brave and stepped towards Hamish. At the same time, he clearly wanted to step away from him.

“Well, doc’ll just have to take him injured!” the Scout wielded a bat, giving it a swing to the air.

He charged at Hamish, holding it in one hand. Before he got within swinging range, Hamish jumped towards him. It was not a large leap, but it got his tentacles in range of the Scout’s knees. He pulled on the man’s knees so hard that he fell backwards.

“Don’t just stand there! Do something!” the Scout started kicking at Hamish, while he restrained his legs.

The Heavy was already moving towards him, reaching out to grab at him. When he missed, he stumbled and gave Hamish ample opportunity to grab his leg with two arms and pull him to the ground. By now, he had his tentacles wrapped around Scout’s legs and restraining both hands. He was not in any way capable of restraining the Heavy like this though, especially not for how massive he was. Once Heavy was up, he would clobber Hamish and that would be the end of it.

He went for the lowest blow possible. He kept his eyes off of the area, trying to look at the Heavy’s face twisting in pain. All the while, he squeezed the Russian’s manhood through his pants until he gave out an effeminate and pained squeak.

“You’ll learn not to mess with me, lads!” he declared in his temporary triumph.

“NO! No no no no no no no!” the Scout started writhing.

“Knock it off, you rat!” he squeezed Scout’s legs, trying to put emphasis on his words, and maybe dig in a little pain.

“Look! Look! I’ll…we’ll stop! We’ll stop!” the Scout pleaded.

“I want more,” Hamish growled, glaring at the Heavy.

He felt the Scout tensing, trying hard to adjust his position in spite of the tentacles, “Look…look…we don’t want any trouble. Just let us go! Let us go!”

“Why? So you can assault my friends again? Assault me again!” Hamish growled. He could hear Medic crawling across the floor on all fours coming closer. If he could hold them down long enough, Medic might bring a weapon over to finish them off.

“Please! Please don’t! Please!” the Scout cried out, slowly divulging into begging.

The Heavy’s face was now flooded with tears as he struggled with the urge to pry Hamish’s hand from his groin. He looked like he was unwilling to move anymore.

“If you want to keep the chance of having offspring,” Hamish gave the Heavy a firm squeeze for emphasis, “You’ll tell me who sent you.”

“Dr. Ludwig! It was Dr. Nathaniel Ludwig!” the Russian cried out in desperation.

“Heavy!” the Scout cried out.

“He wants his projects back,” the Heavy went on through a panted breath.

“Stop! Stop!” the scout squeaked as Hamish tightened his grip on the Scout, “Don’t! Don’t! Please don’t!”

“I won’t if you shut up,” Hamish was getting sick of the Scout complaining about everything. Complained when Heavy spoke and complained when he was squeezed tighter.

“Look, I’ve seen enough hentai to know how this goes. I don’t want to be fucked like a stuffed turkey! I…I-” he was breathing heavily and beginning to cry as much as Heavy was already weeping, “I’m a virgin!”

Hamish opened his mouth but was stuck with the words in his throat as he realized what the Scout thought was happening. His mouth moved, but he could not formulate words. He needed to think more thoroughly about this.

“Then talk, Scout!” the Russian cried out, “Talk! Dr. Ludwig sent us. He sends everyone to find projects. He wants you.”

“Me?” Hamish was not sure who Dr. Ludwig was, but it could be anyone.

“I’m afraid…” Medic growled, stumbling around a table to his feet. He wielded a pistol with a long barrel, pointing it at the Heavy’s head. “Dr. Ludwig will not be receiving his project,” Medic finalized his point by shooting the Heavy in the head. He paused to reload the gun, as apparently it only held one bullet at a time. He made quick work of it to shoot the Scout as well.

Hamish released the bodies and moved away from them. He took deep steadying breaths as he relaxed. So many muscles in his body ached after holding onto struggling men for that long. He felt like he just fought with a monster.

Medic leaned with one hand on the nearby table, where he set the pistol. He was breathing heavily and now clutching his bleeding leg. He took ragged breaths, trying to slow his adrenaline amped system and calm his body down.

Hamish’s eyes fell upon the Spy nearby, “Chameleon!”

Medic turned and limped over to kneel by the man. Hamish waited, watching as the Medic checked him over. There was a bit of groaning and some low inaudible muttering.

“He’ll be fine,” Medic shot Hamish a smile to ease his worries.

Hamish sighed as relief settled in, “There was a Spy sneaking up to Bird Soldier’s nest.”

“His nest?” the Medic blinked at him for a moment, “Oh right! His nest!”

“I killed him,” Hamish said, relieved and proud of himself.

“You killed Bird Soldier?!” Medic exclaimed, his tone growing shrill.

“No! No!” Hamish blushed. He wanted to say “I might as well have killed him with a good dick,” but that seemed inappropriate. “I killed the Spy. Bird Soldier is safe,” he assured the Medic.

The doors banged open and Coyote came in yelling, “Doc! Engie Bull has got the-” He cut off and looked around the mess of the infirmary.

“Hey Scout,” Hamish waved.

“Hey,” Coyote waved to him meekly.

“We killed all of them,” Hamish smiled, “I drowned the Soldier, I choked out the Demo, I also choked the Spy. I pinned these two.” He gestured to the dead Heavy and the dead Scout.

“I shot them,” Medic interjected.

“Right, well Engie Bull has a detainee,” Coyote explained, “Says you’ll want to talk to him.”

“Not now,” Medic huffed, “I have to tend to injuries.” He squeezed his own leg wound as if for emphasis.

“Oh jeez doc! Let me help!” Coyote hurried over to help the Medic and eventually Chameleon to beds in the infirmary. Medic did his best to stitch himself and the Spy, while in a great deal of pain.

Hamish went through the cabinets, and while using one of the Medic’s own books to reference, he got out a dosage of pain killers for each of them. He did not want to overdose them, after all. After giving the medication to them, he spared the tank a glance before leaving with Coyote.

“I probably should tell the others that Medic’s indisposed,” Coyote thought aloud.

“I’ll come with,” Hamish nodded.


	12. Coyote's Bed After It's Cleaned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hamish crashes in Coyote Scout's room.

Hamish waited for Coyote to return. He had leaned up against the wall, tiredly pretending not to mind the pain in his tentacles.

When Coyote returned, he offered Hamish a small smile, “Missed me?”

Hamish could not help but smile at that, “Alright, yea I missed you.”

Coyote paused to stretch, “Where will you go to? I um…I mentioned the body in your tank. I don’t think you wanna sleep in there after that.”

“Yea, I definitely don’t,” he tried not to think about what would be in that water.

“If you need a place to crash, you could…stay in my room?” Coyote offered with a hesitant shrug.

Hamish hesitated. He remembered the state it had been in last time. He was not looking forward to that.

“I cleaned up since last time,” Coyote Scout insisted, as if he was reading Hamish’s thoughts, “Made it more comfortable.”

“I would be obliged to check it out,” he said, keeping Chameleon’s couch in the back of his mind.

Coyote gestured for him to follow. He made his way with the younger man through the halls to Coyote’s room. He waited for Coyote to unlock it, waiting with no hopes on the room’s cleanliness.

He was pleasantly surprised to find it quite clean. There were a few things thrown on the ground, such as a magazine and a sweater, but otherwise it looked nice. He entered the room, admiring its cleanliness.

“H-how does it look?” Coyote asked, “I wasn’t sure if it was up to your standards. I tried though.”

Hamish offered him a smile, “You did good, Coyote! A real good job!”

Coyote Scout smiled back at him, “Thanks! So, you’ll be comfortable staying here with me?”

“Yes, and thank you,” Hamish added, “I appreciate the accommodating…well…I appreciate how accommodating you’re being.”

“Of course!” Coyote grinned that crooked smile, “I uh…I’ve been keeping it clean since last you were here. I was hoping you might come back and uh…well we had fun in the shower, I’d love to do that some more.”

Hamish smiled at the nature of Coyote Scout’s suggestion. He was starting to enjoy the man’s abrupt and straightforward nature to sex. Sure there was subtlety there but it was easier to see than the broad side of a barn door.

“We could do whatever, you know,” Coyote said, a little more suggestion pressing in his tone.

Hamish chuckled at his attempts at subtlety, “You know, I would? I would…” He gave a loud and tired yawn, one that came out of remembering how tired he was. “However, I just wrestled some men to their deaths and I need rest first.”

“R-right! Right!” Coyote raised his hands defensively, “I understand. No pressure.”

“Wake me up in a good mood and I’ll split you open in the morning though,” he patted the space beside him on the bed.

Coyote was smiling as he climbed into bed with him. Hamish wrapped his arms around Coyote and pulled him down to lay with him. They laid like this for a while, snuggled up chest to chest until Hamish drifted off to sleep.

Hamish woke in a dimly lit room feeling a bit confused. He shook away the dazed feeling of sleepiness and looked around. He sighed when he realized that he was in Coyote Scout’s room. His attention was drawn to the younger man as he shuffled on the bed nearby.

“You awake?” Coyote whispered.

Hamish did not resist chuckling, “I’m awake now.”

Coyote Scout scooted back, moving up against his body. He hummed as he snuggled his back against Hamish’s warm body. Hamish welcomed him by wrapping an arm around his middle.

Coyote sighed as he pressed back against Hamish’s chest. He tucked the younger man’s head under his chin for more comfort. He closed his eyes, ready to doze off happily.

“You would be particularly…randy at the moment…would you?” Coyote inquired.

Hamish opened his eyes, though all he could see was dark shapes. He looked at the top of Coyote’s head, with the other man’s shampoo filling his nose. He was not particularly randy, but he did recall that Coyote Scout was an eager man with a lot of want for Hamish.

“Not particularly,” he stroked Coyote’s side with gentle fingers, “Are you?”

Coyote Scout took a deep breath and said, “Hard as a rock.”

Hamish’s hand wandered curiously along Coyote’s side to brush over his crotch. True to his word, his sweats were barely restraining a rigid penis. But Hamish moved his hand to Coyote’s thigh. He might as well tease while he had the upper hand of not being aroused just yet.

“Now how’d you get that?” he spoke in a tone of faux disbelief, “Were you thinking of somebody in particular?”

“Maybe,” Coyote admitted.

Hamish rubbed little circles on the inside of Coyote’s thigh with his thumb. “Who was it? Hmm? Was it…Engie Bull?” he teased.

Coyote laughed, “No, that guy’s probably the most conservative hard ass in the world.”

“Was it Chameleon?” Hamish moved his hand up a bit, moving his thumb a little farther to the more sensitive area.

“No way! Not a Spy!” Chameleon protested. His voice gave away a little whine.

“Was it…Bird Soldier?” Hamish chuckled. He let his mind wander to his time spent with Bird Soldier. It got his tentacles aroused and wanting.

“Hell no! What are you thinking?” Coyote exclaimed.

“What? Medic then?” Hamish giggled.

Coyote hesitated so long that Hamish had a moment of shock to think that perhaps it was Medic. He was a good looking guy, after all. Hamish could imagine doing Medic himself.

“It’s you, chucklenuts!” Coyote exclaimed, wriggling as Hamish’s hand moved just a little higher up his leg.

Hamish laughed again, “Oh! Me?” He moved his hand up higher so that his knuckles were just about grazing Coyote’s manhood. “What were you thinking about? What would you do with me?” he teased.

Coyote let out a whimper, “It’s…it was…what you did with me.”

“Oh?” Hamish hummed, “What would I do with you?”

Coyote moaned, “You would use me as a fucktoy.”

“Oooh,” Hamish cooed, letting the backs of his knuckles gently brush against his sensitive manhood.

“Fuck me, choke me, fill me, use me and make me your toy,” Coyote wriggled, seeking some friction.

“I knew you were a kinky fucker,” Hamish laughed, “I didn’t think you’d be that into the…kinkiest shit.”

Coyote Scout groaned, “I love it. I want it.”

“Okay, okay,” Hamish chuckled, “I’ll give it.”

“I mean-” suddenly Coyote froze, “Uh…sorry…I got a little carried away. We can do whatever you want to do.”

“I’m the guest, we’ll do what you want,” Hamish insisted.

Coyote hesitated, “I want you to fuck me and use me as a toy. I mean…really use me.”

Hamish clicked his tongue, “Damn. Just listening to you talk like this is getting me randy.”

Coyote reached blindly for Hamish’s arm, gripping with fingernails. Hamish bit his lip as Coyote’s nails dug into his skin. They were not even getting into activity yet and Coyote was already acting so desperate.

“Fuck, you’re perfect!” Coyote panted out.

“As perfect as a man can get without having his lower half,” Hamish chuckled.

“You can fuck me raw _and_ you like the begging!” Coyote exclaimed through pants.

Hamish ran his fingers along Coyote’s skin, following the heat to his cock. He wrapped his hand around it, giving it gentle slow strokes. Coyote let out a shaky breath as Hamish finally stimulated him.

“You like teasing?” Hamish asked.

“I like everything,” Coyote relented.

“I’ve noticed,” Hamish chuckled. He tangled his tentacles with Coyote Scout’s legs, growing more eager to touch, squeeze and shove them in Coyote’s body.

“I…I- Oh fuck me!” Coyote gasped out.

“Alright!” Hamish was playfully grinning, even if Coyote could not see it.

He ran a tentacles up Coyote’s leg and searched blindly with the tip for his hole. Coyote flinched at first, then wriggled as Hamish toyed with the outer ring of muscles. Coyote whimpered and jolted, thrusting up into Hamish’s hand.

“Eager, aren’t ya?” Hamish teased, slipping more into Coyote’s ass.

Coyote whimpered and nodded. He wriggled his hips, trying to get more stimulation. Hamish practically slipped in as he pushed to fill the warm space. He moaned as Coyote’s ass squeezed around him upon intrusion.

Coyote let out a whiney moan and his head shifted back against Hamish’s neck, “Yes!” His hand moved back, reaching for Hamish’s side to claw and scratch him.

“Mm…so nice and tight,” Hamish moaned.

“Am I the tightest hole?” Coyote moaned.

Hamish refrained from laughing, “The tightest.”

“Am I a fun toy?” Coyote groaned, trembling as Hamish set the pace.

“You’re such a fun toy. I could fuck all your holes,” Hamish removed his hand so he could wrap Coyote’s dick in tentacles. The way he throbbed in time with his tentacles just felt magnificent.

Coyote groaned, “I can take more. I can take all of you.”

Hamish chuckled, “Is that a challenge?”

Coyote turned his head, trying to look at Hamish, “It’s an invitation to abuse my ass.”

“Noted,” Hamish chuckled. Curiosity got the better of him and he pulled back. He pressed both tentacles in, carefully working in until he had two tentacles in Coyote’s ass at the same time. All the while he writhed and wriggled. He squeaked in pain and he moaned in pleasure.

“Don’t stop!” Coyote suddenly gasped.

“I didn’t,” Hamish assured him.

“No matter what, don’t stop,” Coyote pleaded.

“I wasn’t planning to,” Hamish moved his hand slowly up Coyote’s belly, over his chest to his mouth.

Immediately sensing the curiosity, Coyote took his finger hungrily. He sucked on his finger, bobbing on it for a few moments, all while his tongue lapped at it with thirst. When Hamish pulled his hand away, a squishy pop noise came from Coyote’s mouth. He raised a tentacle, gently touching it to Coyote’s lip. The younger man eagerly took it into his mouth tongue first, pulling it in and sucking on it.

“Good boy,” he gave Coyote a gentle smack on the ass. He flinched, thrusting upward. He tightened his tentacles as he worked Coyote’s cock a bit rougher. “You sure like that?” Hamish hummed as he relished how Coyote’s dick twitched in his grip.

“Mmhmph,” was the only response he could give around a mouthful of tentacle.

“You enjoy a little torture, huh?” Hamish asked, gently petting the red spot he inevitably left on Coyote’s rump.

“Mmhmph,” Coyote opened his mouth, tapping the tentacle with a hand. Hamish pulled back so he could speak. “I love it a lot,” Coyote explained, “This is very temperate compared to what I used to do on the weekends.”

“I have a feeling I’m gonna be listening to you a lot _this_ weekend,” Hamish chuckled. He touched coyote’s lip with his tentacle again, asking to be let in.

Coyote did not immediately take it, distracted as his body convulsed and his mouth cried out. Hamish relished in Coyote’s orgasm, taking advantage of the spasming and wriggling. He wrapped his arm around Coyote, letting him ride through the tide, then relax against him.

“Fuck that’s the hardest I’ve orgasmed in so long,” Coyote panted.

“You feeling alright?” Hamish inquired, “You want to sleep?”

“I want you to fuck my ass until you cum,” Coyote answered.

“You can’t still be horny,” Hamish protested.

“No,” Coyote admitted breathily, “But right now I am your toy.”

“Fair…enough?” Hamish spoke hesitantly, before returning to his previous play. Coyote’s dick was already soft in his tentacles, and he missed the feel of it throbbing to the beat of his own heart.

He remembered losing himself all over Coyote’s body in the shower, but this felt different. It was far more intimate and warm. This time he had had a bit of experience to work with. Coyote was so vocal before that now his quiet limp form felt less fun to play with. He pulled one tentacle out of him.

“Are you growing tired? Do you need me to do something?” Coyote offered.

“No…you just seem…uncomfortable,” Hamish explained, “You’re not into it, so I’m not so into it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Coyote sounded disappointed.

“What’s wrong?” Hamish asked, “I love your kinks, but…ya’know…”

“I get it,” Coyote sighed almost inaudibly, “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

“You sound like you’re the one being left blue-balled,” Hamish said as he pulled out of him completely.

“Well, it’s _my_ kink. I like to be tortured past my limits, used and treated as a thing, used to play out others’ fantasies and told what to do,” Coyote relented.

“It’s just, you seem uncomfortable,” Hamish insisted.

“But I’m not,” Coyote argued, “My dick’s not hard, but I still enjoy your tentacles in my ass. I love it. The overstimulation that leaves my nerves going off like crazy. Most guys don’t like to be spanked, but then there’s me who just wants to be beat while you fuck my ass hard.”

“Earlier you were into it, vocal and participating,” Hamish said, “You were begging for me. Now you’re limp and tired and feel cuddly.” He gently stroked Coyote’s soft hair. “I love cuddling too, so we can do that.”

“I’m just less vocal cause I’m tired,” Coyote protested, “I still want it.”

“You still want it?” Hamish did not feel very believing of the situation, especially knowing how soft the man was.

“Do you still want sex? Are you still horny?” Coyote asked insistently.

“Well yes, but I’m okay with it,” Hamish assured him.

“Then I want you to fuck me. I want you to use whatever part of me you want. I want you to use it,” Coyote insisted, “And if I need you to stop, I will say waffles.”

“Waffles?” he was surprised by the word.

“Yes, waffles,” Coyote nodded.

“Well, you said waffles, so I guess that’s it,” Hamish teased with a chuckle.

“Shut up,” Coyote pressed his bum firmly against Hamish, “Fuck me.”

“And if I don’t?” he teased, wanting more of Coyote being vocal. His desire was getting to him though, as he wrapped around Coyote’s legs and squeezed his muscular form.

“Fill my ass and I’ll make some for you,” Coyote said in a sing song tone.

“Make some what?” he teased the rim of his hole.

Coyote sucked in sharply, “Just fuck me and I’ll make them for you. If I say the word, you’re not getting any.”

Hamish laughed, figuring Coyote was promising him some waffles, “Keep talking and I’ll split you in two.”

“Yes, fucking please do it! Two again,” Coyote pleaded.

“You want this?” he slipped in just a tip.

“More, more! Fuck my ass raw,” Coyote pleaded.

Hamish pushed the tentacle in, followed by a second one. He resisted the urge to play with his genitals, leaving his privates alone for now. He ran his hand up Coyote’s chest, taking in how he smelt and felt as he took the pleasures of the warm wet space he was filling.

When he came close, it sank into his belly. He brought his tentacles around Coyote, ready for the peak. It hit him like a giant truck as he splashed cum over as much of Coyote Scout’s body as he could manage. He quickly pulled out of him, letting Coyote Scout rest from the overstimulation.

He wrapped his arm around the man and pulled him close. He meant for them to eventually do something about the mess, but they fell asleep instead. Hamish slept long into the morning hours.


	13. Day on Loving

Hamish woke very slowly. Next to him, the bed was empty. He could feel the warmth left behind on the blankets where a body previously laid. His partner had not been gone for very long. He felt around the area, before looking around the room. He was still in Coyote Scout’s bedroom, but the owner of the room was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s he gone to?” Hamish mumbled rubbing his sleepy eyes.

He slipped off the bed and glanced around the room again. He started to the door, but caught his reflection in a nearby mirror. Curious, Hamish climbed onto the only chair to get a better look.

He was fuzzy all over his face, with a beard growing in thick along his chin. It was not kept well either, making him look like some scruffy hobo. His hair was a bit of a mess too, with areas that looked tangled with an uneven dent on one side.

He noticed a comb and some other hair styling things Coyote left out on his desk. He grabbed the comb and carefully teased out some of the tangles. At least he could make his hair look symmetrical, even if it was growing fairly obnoxiously. He thought talking to Chameleon would get him better results if he was going to get his hands on tools that would help him keep his hair, given that most men he had met here had straight hair and would not likely know how to deal with his hair type. He pulled the hairs that tangled into the comb to toss them in a little garbage bin.

He cracked up when he saw that half of the bin was full of tissues, knowing that Coyote was not sick recently. The door opened and Coyote stepped in, “What’s so-” He cut off as his eyes landed on the bin. His face turned red and he quickly closed the door with his free hand. “I made waffles,” he brandished the plate in his other hand, letting the smell fill the room.

“Any for me?” Hamish teased.

“Of course,” Coyote set the plate on the desk, “I didn’t want to carry two plates all the way here, so I hope you don’t mind if we share.” He offered Hamish one of the two forks he brought along.

“Nah, that’ll do,” he climbed up onto the chair, leaving room for Coyote to sit with him.

The younger man sat cross legged on the floor, with his back to the chair. He cut out a chunk of pancake for himself with a fork, before handing the plate to Hamish. He seemed content where he was but Hamish felt awkward.

“I can share the chair, you know,” Hamish said.

“It’s alright,” Coyote insisted.

“But we can sit together,” Hamish insisted, “What about the bed?”

“Don’t want to drip syrup on it,” Coyote pointed out, “Besides, I’m fine like this. Feels like I’m…beneath you.” He tilted his chin up to grin at Hamish.

Hamish was not sure how to take that or what it meant. He decided to just accept it and started eating. He made sure Coyote could reach them when he wanted another chunk to eat.

When the plate was finished, he left it on the desk, leaning back in the chair. He could hear Coyote humming as he leaned against the chair leg. His soft hair brushed against a tentacle, so he gently toyed with it. Coyote leaned into the touch happily.

“You’re real silly, Coyote,” Hamish chuckled.

“I just really like this kind of attention,” Coyote leaned into Hamish’s touch.

“Come on up here,” Hamish chuckled as he invited Coyote to join him on the chair.

Coyote rose from the ground. He paused, careful not to plant all his weight right onto Hamish’s tentacles. He could see Coyote chewing on his lip as he made eye contact. He was not sure why he looked. He was not sure if the lip chewing just tipped off some part of his mind or if he was just curious, but he looked down to find that Coyote’s pants had a noticeable bump. He was hard and ready to do something nasty.

“Got a gun cocked in your pocket there?” Hamish suppressed a chuckle. He could not suppress the smirk though.

Coyote paused to unbutton his pants. He slipped his dick right out of his clothes, letting it stand erect and free. “Stick ‘em up!” Coyote retorted.

“Oh no! You shouldn’t have come with only one wee little weapon,” he wrapped a tentacle around Coyote’s dick. He took each hand with other tentacles to hold them away from himself. “I have the upper hand,” he teased.

Coyote grunted, eyes rolling back in his head. He bit his lower lip as if this were too good. Even as he bit his lip, he was starting to smile. He wriggled his hips, wanting for more stimulation. Eventually, he finally looked to Hamish and his lips spread into a broader grin.

“Put it in me?” the question was a grunted request.

Hamish conceded, slipping into Coyote’s clothes with two more tentacles. With a bit of shuffling and shifting around, he managed to shift Coyote so he could comfortably fit around his soft flesh. He was glad the young man’s pants were just loose enough that he could fit extra flesh in there to toy around with him.

He found the tight little hole and carefully stretched him. He hummed as every tentacle began to throb to the beat of his own heart. He put his hands on Coyote’s shoulders and pulled to draw him close, pressing his lips to Coyote’s face. He hummed in enjoyment, focusing between stroking Coyote’s throbbing cock and the tight muscles clenching around the tentacles.

“Relax,” Hamish hummed, finally pushing a tentacle deep into Coyote. He let out a low moan as he settled into the warmth of Coyote’s body.

Coyote let out a sigh, rocking his hips with delighted want. His arms strained on his tentacles, forcing him to help Coyote stay balanced. He gladly kept Coyote upright, while he enjoyed the warm sensitive flesh below. He quite enjoyed how soft his warm testicles were. They contrasted the stiffness of his pink dick.

“So pleased with yourself, aren’t you?” Hamish hummed.

Coyote barely nodded before he came, splashing both of them with fluids. Hamish watched Coyote squirm for a little bit, before intensifying what he was doing before.

“I…I could take this all day,” Coyote panted out.

“Oh could you?” Hamish teased.

Coyote leaned forward and Hamish let him fall against his chest. Coyote hummed, laying his head against Hamish’s shoulder. He was relaxed, just riding through the downside of the high. Hamish was mentally prepared this time, understanding that it was just a shift from the high and not a disinterest in the activity.

He was savoring the feel of Coyote thoroughly. He was warm on the inside, and his tentacles felt good in there. He pulled out his tentacles, which made Coyote give out a groan, before replacing them with other tentacles. Coyote wrapped his arms around Hamish’s neck as Hamish released them. All the while, Hamish’s fervor was growing anew.

“I’m hard a-” Coyote was in the middle of his sentence when a knock came at the door.

Both of them froze. He could not see Coyote’s face, but he imagined there was the same shock. They were both silent, holding their breaths. Maybe if they pretended not to be there, the person on the other side would just go away.

“Coyote Scout!” a voice called through the door.

Coyote gasped, “Engie Bull!”

“What does he want?” Hamish whispered.

“I know you’re in there!” Engie Bull called from the other side of the door.

Coyote took a deep breath and yelled, “So? It’s my room! Go away!”

“What the hell are you doing? I thought you were meeting us out by the diamond?” the Engie Bull argued irritably.

Coyote sat up. “Fuck,” he whispered.

“What’s he talking about?” Hamish wondered what kind of diamond would be found out here of all places.

“We were gonna play baseball,” Coyote whispered. He got a rather guilty look, sinking inward.

“Are you coming or what?” Engie Bull called.

“You should go,” Hamish whispered.

Coyote put a hand over his mouth as he let out a quiet groan, “I just got a stiffy.”

Hamish looked down at the needy and wanting dick. If he were a greedier man, he would indeed tell the Scout to stay so he could play with him some more. Even if he were not deep in the other man’s ass, he would be turned on just by the sight of how wanting he was. It was a wonderful thing to feel like he was wanted and needed.

“Scout?” the Engie Bull called through the door.

“We’ll rub it out quick like, then you go play,” Hamish insisted in a hushed tone.

“I wanted to stay and do this today,” Coyote pleaded quietly.

“Just tell him you’ll be there in twenty minutes,” Hamish insisted.

Reluctantly, Coyote obliged. Appeased, the Engie Bull left them to their peace. Hamish began moving again.

Coyote let out a moan, “I just want to do this all day.”

“You promised them,” Hamish said softly, “You need to keep your promises.”

“But this is so fucking good…” Coyote groaned, “How can you expect me to get out of your lap?” His hips jerked as tentacles wrapped around his cock. “I just want to do this all day!” he repeated with a low moan.

“Make good on your promise,” Hamish tightened his grip on Coyote’s cock, causing the man to gasp, “And I’ll spread you three wide.”

“Three wide?” Coyote’s eyes grew as he stared back at Hamish, “That sounds like it’ll hurt.” Instead of wincing, Coyote’s eyes softened and his mouth spread into a grin.

Hamish grabbed Coyote’s backside, using the leverage to rock his hips. It gave his tentacles a bit of rest, making his work easier in stimulating everything. Coyote’s tail was wagging all the while, excited as Hamish moved a bit faster. He was trembling all the while, as the stimulation grew in intensity.

It did not take very long. Coyote cried out as he came. He trembled and leaned against Hamish for support. Hamish gladly took him into his arms and stroked him through his orgasm. He held him as he came down from the high, smiling giddily like an idiot.

When he managed to bring Coyote to his senses, he sent him to clean off and get dressed. He needed to clean off himself. He had taken the bulk of the Scout’s bodily fluids and was fairly sticky. He smelled no better than he looked.

“What’ll you do until I get back?” Coyote asked, as he wiped himself off with a towel, “Watch hentai?”

“Nah…” he was not entirely sure what he would do. He would probably start with a shower just to feel less gross about his situation. “I’ll find something to do.”

Coyote huffed as he pulled on his pants. He did not even bother with his briefs. Hamish was about to comment, but the younger man was already running out the door.

“Love you! Bye!” the door slammed before Hamish could process what Coyote said.

He hesitated as he thought about it. It was a hastily spoken line. He could have not been thinking. Or it could have been one of those Freudian slip ups that people often have when they do not pay attention to what they are saying. Though, he always figured that a Freudian slip had to do with something that the person was thinking about, even if they had not meant to say it.

A knock came at the door and the hairs on Hamish’s arms stood on end. His hackles rose as he realized that somebody had come looking for the Scout and he was all that was left. He hurried to clean himself off as the door began to open.

He froze as he looked up at the Chameleon. The Spy paused to study the room briefly, taking it all in with a quiet look of judgment. He finally looked to Hamish and gave him a smile.

“I noticed the boy had left,” he said, “I thought I’d invite you to- well you seem like you’ve had enough of activities.” The accusatory tone sent an electrical sensation up Hamish’s spine. He almost wanted to yell and shout at the Chameleon for just barging in. “But I think you’ll enjoy this activity, even if you’re tired. It’ll just be the two of us in a platonic way right now.”

Hamish grunted, “Mind if I take a rain check? I’d uh…I’d like to shower first.”

“By all means,” Chameleon’s sly grin was spreading from ear to ear, “I would rather not smell the brat on you.”

Hamish hesitated, realizing how tauntingly the Chameleon confirmed his suspicions. It upset his nerves and left him feeling a bit frustrated that the man just knew that he was here. He began to suspect the Spy of stalking. He either had his eye on the Coyote Scout or on Hamish himself, and he was not sure he liked either of those ideas.

“Have you been prying more than you should be?” he narrowed his gaze at Chameleon.

“Not at all,” Chameleon insisted, “You two have just been too easy to keep tabs on. You’re not all that secretive about what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing then?” Hamish straightened his shoulders.

Chameleon shrugged, “I’m not sure. I suppose testing the waters for your very own harem?”

Hamish blinked at him. He did not know what that word meant or what it was for. He wondered if it was meant to be an insult. But Chameleon was his friend, so it was unlikely that he was going for anything more than a friendly jab. Still, he was wary as he pressed on, as perhaps Chameleon might be overstepping his boundaries as a friend.

“And that means?” he pressed.

“You know? A man’s group of concubines?” Chameleon offered.

Hamish felt his face grow red. Of course he should have known that. That was a word as old as time itself. He was just too stupid to remember what it meant apparently. He felt even worse that the Spy had been following him around so much that he was becoming aware of Hamish’s friendlier habits. He wondered if he knew about Bird Soldier.

“I know that…I meant…” he was fumbling now, unable to come up with a full response.

Chameleon chuckled softly, “Oh relax. I’m not stopping you, am I?”

“No, I’m just…that’s not what I…” nothing he said would make the heat decrease. Every word felt like turning the knob to an oven his head was stuck in.

“You’ve got a pretty good thing going with Coyote,” Chameleon commented, as Hamish slipped out of the chair, “Does he know you slept with Bird Soldier?”

It was like the furnace was being fed more fuel to burn the fires hotter. He could not make it stop. And as far as Hamish could see, Chameleon was not about to stop. He was ready to throw more into those flames.

“I…I don’t think I…revealed that to him,” he stammered.

Chameleon clicked his tongue, “Shame. He’s quite attached to you.”

He took a deep breath, ready to stand his ground, “What do you want from me? You want an explanation? You want me to stop? What? I’m just having fun with others who want to have fun. It’s not like we-” He shut up the moment Chameleon’s hand rose.

“It was just a little teasing,” Chameleon admitted, “If it meant anything more to you, I am sorry. I only meant to get a little under your skin. I too am guilty of your antics?”

Hamish widened his eyes, “What? You’ve been sleeping with other people too?”

“No…of _your_ antics,” Chameleon protested, “I’ve done stuff with you?”

“Like…mouth…that’s about it,” Hamish argued, “I wouldn’t call that anything like sleeping around with somebody, let alone fucking somebody. It’s not on the same level.”

“Are you bothered by it?” the softer tone in Chameleon’s voice seemed worried.

“No,” Hamish’s answer was quick and straightforward, “I’d do it again. I’d do it now.” He shrugged, glad that they were no longer fueling the flames that heated his face previously.

Chameleon raised an eyebrow and the quirk of a smile returned to his face, “You’d do it now? Here and now?”

Hamish hesitated, a little surprised at the change, “Uh…I mean…I would?”

“Would you?” Chameleon lowered his hand to paw at the front of his pants, bringing Hamish’s eye down with it. Hamish’s mouth opened but he jawed without saying a single word. “Would you right here? In this room? Suck me off?”

Hamish’s tongue made a smacking sound, but he still did not have the mental capacity to say a word. He tried to think of a word. He tried stringing together words. All he could do was make a humming sound.

“Is that asking too much?” it was Chameleon’s turn to be red in the face as he removed his hand from his crotch.

Hamish took a breath and said, “Bed. Now.”

“Bed?” Chameleon looked at Coyote’s bed and winced in hesitation.

“You wanna be sucked?” Hamish pointed to the bed, “Do as you’re told and you’ll be rewarded.”

Chameleon turned his full attention to Hamish, “You’ve gotten quite acquainted with Scout’s way of doing things. Haven’t you?” When Hamish did not say anything to that, he went on. “You like it a lot. You like getting to boss somebody around?”

“You want to get sucked, and I want to lie down,” Hamish pointed to the bed again, “I can take back the offer instead.”

Chameleon raised his hands, then silently walked to the bed. He sat down and undid the topmost button of his shirt, where a warm red hue crept up his chest toward the mask that ran down his neck. He looked to Hamish expectantly, waiting as he was joined on the bed. Chameleon kicked his shoes off onto the floor.

Hamish pressed a hand to Chameleon’s chest, pushing him down against the bed. He crawled over the man, laying over his legs comfortably. Once he was positioned comfortably, he undid his pants and revealed the waiting pink cock.

“Perhaps revealing a secret of mine would make you feel better about the secrets I know?” Chameleon asked.

Hamish had his hand on the dick and was about to take it into his mouth. He paused, looking to the Spy curiously, “Go on?”

“I think the Coyote Scout is my fetish,” the Spy replied in a nonchalant manner.

“Your fetish?” he was not sure he understood what the Spy meant by this.

“I’ve never been fond of his mouthy behavior,” Spy admitted, “He’s done a few things he is probably not proud of. But it always feels like he is truly proud of himself…and I’ve wanted to take revenge ever since.”

“This isn’t making me feel better,” Hamish stopped him, “This is making me feel worried. What are you up to?”

“Nothing,” the Spy smiled and waved a hand dismissively, probably hoping that Hamish would start sucking him already, “I don’t want revenge anymore. Not really. I thought about sneaking in here and pissing on his laundry. But…I don’t know…recently…I just want to get off in his personal space and just let the ejaculate mark his stuff.”

Hamish scrunched his brow, “That’s…that’s weird. Including the piss thing. I’d expect that from somebody else, but not from you.”

Chameleon chuckled awkwardly, “I know it is.”

“It’s just…pissing on his laundry? That’s some specific revenge,” Hamish commented.

Chameleon’s face was turning red, but then it turned blue, “I shouldn’t have told you that.”

Hamish was amazed that the cock in his hand was changing color. He had completely forgotten that the Spy had a talent for color changing. It was why he did not need technology to blend into his surroundings. It was a silent and deadly trait, but right now, it was kind of beautiful as the penis turned from pink to blue to red to gray to green.

“But I do like the effects of you being embarrassed,” Hamish teased, “Besides, you already told me.”

“I shouldn’t have,” Chameleon repeated, this time making a gesture like he was going to push Hamish away.

“Then I’ll make you forget you did!” Hamish dove for the cock, taking him all the way down his throat.

He watched Chameleon’s response, and the hand immediately dropped as the man’s eyes rolled back. He let out a moan and relaxed. Hamish would have been smiling if he did not have his throat stretched by a dick. He pulled back and started a careful rhythm. He took the rest of the cock with his hand to rub it in tandem.

“I hate you,” Chameleon muttered.

Hamish hummed, taking more of his cock so he would feel the vibrations. He listened to the groaning and moaning as Chameleon failed to sound displeased by what was happening. When he pulled back, taking the member out of his mouth, Chameleon gave him an annoyed look.

“Why did you stop? You’re not finished,” Chameleon scorned him.

Hamish rolled his eyes and laughed as he took his cock into his mouth again, this time playing with his tongue some more. Just listening to his friend hum and moan with pleasure was worth his irritating behavior.

“Maybe it’s you,” Chameleon said suddenly.

He was tempted to pull off so he could ask what he meant. He was not keen on taking blame for anything he did not do. It would be unfair of the Chameleon Spy to expect him to do so without justice.

“I don’t know what it is,” Chameleon laid his head back to enjoy the sensations, “You make me feel a way I haven’t felt in decades.”

Hamish’s heart started to speed up. He was not sure why he was growing excited. He did not understand what he was waiting for. It was a sense of anticipation, waiting for something to come. He just could not decide whether it was good or bad and why.

“Aside from medic, there hasn’t been a man who makes me want to do things I normally would never do,” the Spy explained, “Even to the Scout-” Chameleon suddenly shook his head. “I have said too much. Don’t tell anybody about this, this is secret.”

Hamish pulled off of his dick, rubbing his length with his hand. He tried to carefully choose his own words, watching as the Chameleon slowly fell apart. “You love me?” he asked.

Chameleon looked at him with shock. Hamish’s heart dropped. He felt like his body had gone numb in that moment, no longer feeling things, but understanding that his hand was still moving. He had not finished his task and so he was still at it.

“I…Coyote Scout loves you,” Chameleon’s voice was surprisingly quiet, “He is the one you should be focused on…if you want love.”

Hamish was unsure of what to say. He had not really thought about this a lot. This was just a passing thing, due to the Coyote Scout’s Freudian slip.

When Chameleon finally came, it was with less excitement than he ever had before. The man ejaculated without fervor and seemed to be suppressing any sound. In short, he was afraid to break the silence, despite the purposeful goal of bringing him to his climax.


	14. Curious Questions

Oof. Hamish did not like the situation he was in at all. Medic was angry with him, and he was angry with the Medic. Chameleon now had this awkward taste in his mouth, and now Hamish was regretting ever getting physical with his friend. His only source of solace was the Coyote Scout’s room. It did not have everything he needed though.

Eventually, he had to leave this sanctum and wander off to find some food and water. He ended up at the kitchen. He would not mind the company, but right now he wanted to be alone. So when he found a lot of people gathered there, he did his best to avoid eye contact.

In order to do or make anything, he needed to climb up onto the counter. He propped himself on the edge, while he pulled out a few ingredients to make sandwiches. He figured he might as well make some for Coyote Scout, in case he came back with a growling stomach. Might as well be expressively thankful for breakfast.

Though he was certainly focused on making breakfast, his mind was also thinking about other things. He had not thought about love before this, so it was probably what the Scout said that was messing with his head. But to be cared about that much in this state was unbelievable. Maybe the Coyote Scout felt the same, that love was hardly attainable for them.

For the first time since he arrived here, he felt bitter about himself. His body was wrong and distorted. It was weird and hideous. He tried to imagine if he as himself before all of this, if he would have taken in somebody with this kind of disfigurement and express the love they wanted. He was not sure he could. He wondered if even any of the others could.

Oh sure, it was all fun and games. Coyote liked a good fuck. Chameleon liked a good suck. What was he at the end of this? Normally he did not think about it, but today felt different. He either had to give up on the fun to credit these deeper thoughts, or he had to try harder at not thinking about things and not caring about it.

He was so deep in thought he almost did not notice the mechanical beast come into the kitchen. Almost. The soldier bot’s feet were loud as it stomped into the room, then did a quick scan. It paused on him briefly, but only briefly. He watched it warily as it went to another area of the kitchen. Relieved that he was being left alone, Hamish went back to making his sandwiches.

Not forty seconds after he turned his back and there was a loud crash. He turned quickly to see that the automaton had dropped a dish. It stooped to try and pick it up, but its thick, blunt, metal fingers could not pick up the shards. It gave up and turned back to a cupboard to try grabbing another dish.

Despite watching it fall, Hamish flinched at the loud crash that followed. Nobody from the mess hall even seemed to be bothered by this. That seemed strange, considering this was how you lose all of your dishes, and he had seen other mercenaries rush in to stop him from destroying all of the dishes.

Hamish thought quickly and dug through the cupboards. He found some tin – or perhaps they were aluminum, he could not tell – trays and pulled one out. He used the tray as a plate, placing multiple sandwiches. He had no idea how much food was actually needed, but he was sure the automaton was not going to be able to make close to as much as Hamish could make, not without destroying half the dishes.

“Hey!” he called out to the machine. When it ignored him, he got louder. “Aye!” he barked loudly. There was still no response. He refrained from instinctively chucking something at the bot’s head, “Metal head!”

That finally got the machine’s attention. Slowly, it turned around, using its feet to get itself turned better. There were red lights in its eyes, and he had a sneaking suspicion it meant him harm. Still, he held the tray in front of himself, putting it up like a barrier.

“Instead of breaking the dishes, just take this,” he held out the tray.

The noise the bot makes when it moves its head makes the effort to look from the tray to Hamish’s face dramatic. It does not move from this spot, instead waiting like somebody had to insert a command. These metal beasts could not be trusted in the kitchen, so he doubted that this one was sent in without Automan at least keeping an eye on its functions.

“You want food, yea? Here,” he held the tray out a little farther, trying to express that this was a gift.

After another pause, the bot started moving again. It walked towards him, with each step punctuated with a loud sound. He was a little intimidated, holding tighter to the drawer handle that was keeping him from falling over the edge.

Staring at the tray, the bot slowly clamped its hands around the outer edges of the tray. Once he was certain that it had a steady hold of the tray, Hamish released it. Finally, the metal beast looked up to him, a dramatic movement with dramatic noise. Hamish looked back at the machine’s face, very much expecting something to be said by Automan himself.

Without a word, the bot turned and left. Hamish was a little shocked as he watched it go. He had expected at least something to be said to him.

“You’re welcome!” he called after the thing.

“Do not be too kind,” Chameleon Spy’s voice caught him off guard, causing him to nearly flinch out of his skin, “Or if you do, don’t expect him to return politeness.”

“The hell are you thinking?! You scared the skin off my bones!” Hamish shook away the frightened shivering.

Chameleon appeared with his colors changing carefully until they settled on something that looked naturally human. Hamish wondered if they were naturally his colors anymore. For how human he looked, was he really that human anymore? Of anybody here, Chameleon seemed to blend in the best, as he could pass for human.

“Your skin is fine,” Chameleon reached out and gently touched Hamish’s arm with a gloved hand.

Hamish did not flinch away, but he thought the touch was a bit strange, “That aside, what are you doing?”

“I was waiting,” Chameleon began tapping his foot, “I am still waiting.”

Hamish frowned at him, before turning back to his sandwich making. Maybe the Spy thought the sandwiches were for him? Good luck, he thought. Still, he found himself making extra extra sandwiches, just to be sure they were not gone by the time the Coyote Scout came back in from his ball game.

When he climbed down, the Chameleon picked up the tray for him, “I’ll carry this for you.”

Hamish sighed, but he said nothing. It was difficult enough to get around. Having things carried for him made things just a little easier. When they arrived at the Coyote’s room though, it felt very awkward.

“Oh hey-” Coyote Scout’s greeting was cut off as he saw the Chameleon enter behind him.

Hamish was not really sure what to say at the moment. The two men locked eyes and it was like they were sworn enemies. He was not sure he had expected something like this though.

“Oh, you made sandwiches?” Coyote’s question had the most fake nice tone Hamish had ever heard. It was obvious that he was faking it too, throwing it in the Spy’s face.

“Actually, _he_ made them,” the Spy set the tray on Scout’s desk, “I simply carried them for him.”

“Yea,” Hamish was not sure what else to say.

“Right,” Coyote Scout hesitated, glancing from the sandwiches to the Spy, “So why are _you_ still here?”

Chameleon raised his eyebrows at Coyote, tucking his hands into his pockets. He said nothing as he studied Scout’s approach to the situation. He paid Hamish no mind as the shortest man in the room made his way further inside.

“Thank you,” Hamish cleared his throat, “Chameleon, you didn’t have to do that. I appreciate it though.”

“I see I am no longer needed here,” Chameleon’s tone incited a sense of irritation and pettiness.

“You weren’t invited in,” Hamish told him, “Don’t just expect to be invited to stay!”

Chameleon shot him a look. He felt like he must have crossed some sort of line. At the same time though, he could see that Coyote was uncomfortable with Chameleon’s presence in his room. Chameleon’s frown did not seem very obvious, so perhaps Coyote did not even see it. But Hamish saw it, before the spook slipped out of the room and left.

He let out a breath he did not know he was holding. He worried he may have to smooth things over with his friend. He felt rather foolish leading him here though. Not that there was anything wrong with Chameleon being here, yet he could see that Chameleon was upset at being dismissed like this.

“You uh…you get along with Chameleon Spy, huh?” Coyote Scout inquired.

Hamish frowned, “Well, I thought you already knew. Chameleon and I are already friends. We’re-”

“Do you uh…” Coyote cut him off, sitting down in his chair. He hesitated, thrumming the fingers of one hand against his desk. “Do you do things with him…like what you do with me? I mean like the sex stuff?”

Hamish was sure his face gave him away. He was burning hot and unsure he could lie his way out of this if he wanted to. Not that he wanted to, but he immediately felt the burning sensation that he had done something wrong. Chameleon was angry, and now Coyote was going to kick him out because he was doing things with somebody else too.

“I…I won’t lie,” Hamish swallowed the fear, “He and I don’t do exactly what you and I do. It’s a different relationship. But uh…we do some…sexual things I guess.”

“Oh, that’s a shame,” Coyote shrugged.

Hamish froze. ‘That’s a shame?’ he wondered. He was conflicted on what question he should ask. There were a few questions he wanted to ask all at once. He got the feeling that Coyote might lash out though.

Finally, Coyote looked at him, still standing stock still in the middle of the floor. His ear twitched, “What?”

“I want to ask the same to you,” Hamish replied, his mouth too dry for speaking.

Coyote’s head tilted slightly, “What what? What do you mean?”

“I…I understand if you’re upset. But…be clear with me on…that…” Hamish pleaded.

“What? Why would I- Oh, because Chameleon came? Nah, I figured he just came to be an ass. You said you hadn’t invited him,” Coyote shrugged.

“I mean about the…” Hamish let his voice trail off, unsure if he should actually explain more and rub dirt into the wound.

“What?” Coyote looked at him with another tilt of his head, “You think I’m mad because you…” he let the last note of his words trail questioningly.

Hamish swallowed again, “To be honest, I am not entirely sure what our relationship here is. Chameleon and I are…sort of friends with benefits. You know, just friends who give each other a fellatio from time to time.”

Coyote scout shrugged, “I can give you a fellatio whenever you need one, you know. You just gotta ask. You know I’m good for it whenever.”

Hamish’s face burned with embarrassment. Of course, Coyote Scout would. Coyote Scout would bend backwards if it got Hamish off. He felt insane for all of this now, considering Coyote Scout could and absolutely would provide him with all of the relief he would ever need or want.

“I know that,” his voice came out weaker an quieter than he meant it to be.

“We uh…kinda left off earlier too,” Coyote said, now all smiles.

Hamish raised his hands, “I’m not comfortable continuing until we resolve things.”

“Resolve things?” Coyote cocked an eyebrow, “Resolve what?”

“This,” Hamish gestured between Coyote and himself.

It was Coyote’s turn to swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. His ears laid back as he stared at Hamish. He could not push aside the thought that the animalistic features gave the Scout a very cute factor.

“I don’t want to cross any lines or anything like that,” Hamish explained, “I want us to be alright.”

“I’m not upset or anything,” Scout’s voice was barely more than a mumble.

“Well?” Hamish pressed, “From your perspective, what are we?”

Coyote Scout shrugged, “I dunno. I guess were friends…who fuck? What do you think?” Coyote’s face was slowly turning red.

“I think so too?” he was not sure why his tone was questioning, “You and I…we have a pretty…intense situation though.”

“It doesn’t have to get intensely intimate or romantic or whatever…if you don’t want that,” Coyote Scout raised his hands, waving them defensively.

Hamish took a slow breath, “Not that I would mind any of that. I just…I didn’t really think about it…when you and I were fucking…and Chameleon and I started doing things.”

Coyote nodded slowly, “And…I’d probably do some things with my other friends too.” Coyote Scout scratched the back of his neck.

“You aren’t already?” he was not sure why the question fell out of his mouth.

“Well I-” Coyote Scout bit his lip, “I don’t think a lot of them are actually into dudes.”

Hamish chuckled awkwardly, “It’s a good thing you were pretty out of it. You might not have said something stupid enough to get yourself propositioned.”

Coyote Scout burst into laughter, “I think that’s the first time saying something dumb actually got me to a home run!”

“Just with men? Or in general?” Hamish asked.

Coyote shrugged, dismissing the question as if Hamish would know the answer. “I’m really glad you and I started this thing though.” He gave Hamish a disarmingly sweet smile.

Hamish smiled back at him. He moved over to join him, glad to find himself back in Coyote’s arms. He decided not to question this. Coyote might have feelings about him, or maybe he did not. For now, it seemed he was alright with just this. Hamish could question it again later when they were both in a different mood.


	15. Automan's Tray of Sandwiches

This thing they had started, it was nice. Hamish wondered what it was though. Even after talking to the Coyote Scout, he had found out nothing about the younger man’s feelings or opinions on this. He just sort of made it out like Hamish was supposed to know.

How could he know? What was he supposed to know? Troubled, he could not bring himself to sleep. Even with the warm body pressed up against his side, he was nowhere close to feeling the sensation of exhaustion.

He carefully peeled himself away from the Scout. He did not want to wake him. Worst case scenario, if he woke up, Hamish would just lie and say he was headed to the bathroom.

With not much to do that would be quiet enough in Scout’s room, he left, slipping through the door. He was relieved he did not have to lie. Though, he worried what Scout might think if he woke up while Hamish was not there. He would not have any reason about Hamish’s absence.

Unwilling to wake Coyote just for that answer, he meandered down the hall. The slow creepy crawling he did was tiring. He wondered if octopuses all had to travel like this. Maybe under water they were much faster. They had whole oceans with rocks and things to grab onto. At best, all he had for under water exercise was that now green tank.

That was not why he came out here though. He came out here to walk – or rather crawl in an ambling manner – and think about things that were going on and what this meant to him. Even if Scout had clearly stated what their relationship was, Hamish was not sure he had a clear answer from Chameleon about their relationship either. He called it friends with benefits, but part of him worried.

It was not as if he thought the Spy had more feelings for him than that. In fact, he might be over thinking all of this. But, didn’t Hamish feel something for him? Those awkward three words had hung in the air between them and the only way to make that tension leave was for the Spy to pretend it never happened.

A sudden crash startled him out of thought. It woke up his senses, making the hair on his arms stand on end. He looked around, searching for the source of the noise. His best bet was that light coming from the infirmary. He could hear some awkward German swearing and the shuffle of metal.

He was quiet enough on his own, so he crawled to the door. He carefully pushed the door open slightly to peep into the infirmary. He was hoping not to disturb the man, hence his sneaking. He was too surprised to find that the man was interacting with one of Automan’s bots.

“You always do this!” the Medic proclaimed, arms thrown up in frustration.

He looked so flustered. If not for the messy bed hair, loose tie and disheveled clothes, his red face and gleaming eyes told it all. He had to be flustered, to let all of those papers just fall from the air kicked up by his arms.

“Do what? Be human? You wouldn’t know the first damn thing about being that, would you?” Automan’s voice came through the bot’s speaker.

Hamish put a hand over his mouth. He was peeping on an anger-filled interaction between the Medic and the Automan. He felt ashamed, but he could not bring himself to leave or look away. He had never seen the Automan interact with the Medic outside of interactions in the hallway. Of course, this could just be a case where a bot came inside the infirmary, but it always seemed like they were programmed to mind the personal spaces of those living on base, including the medical bay.

“Don’t start with that! Don’t start with me on that!” the Medic snapped back, “You’re the one who acts like he’s so powerful and mighty he can’t be bothered to leave his own damn room!”

“YOU KNOW WHY I DON’T LEAVE MY ROOM!” the Automan shouted over the speaker with all of the force in his voice.

“It’s because you can’t stand to face the truth like a normal human being!” the Medic barked back at him.

“Coming from the man who can’t see when someone’s hurting,” the Automan’s voice calmed down.

“People come to me when they are in pain,” the Medic’s voice was snippy as his chin raised, “I’m not blind to their pain.”

“Obviously, you are,” Automan said firmly.

“You’re so full of yourself…I can’t believe I let you do this to me again,” the Medic turned away, placing his palms against a table.

Hamish shifted uneasily. This seemed to be a recurring thing for them, whatever it was. Their relationship, their friendship seemed to be severely fractured by fights like this. And it did not seem like they were able to talk that out on their own. Hamish could not be the one to step in though, as Medic was already angry at him, and he had yet to get to know Automan fully.

Automan scoffed again, “Did to you? Excuse me? What _I_ did to you? The hell is that supposed to mean? You- I can’t even believe you!”

“Engineer, take your bot out of my infirmary,” the Medic gestured for the bot to leave.

Hamish was surprised that the Medic did not call him by his codename. He revealed his class. It did not seem like a bad thing, not to Hamish anyways. It was how they always called each other as mercenaries on base. Calling by classes meant that one did not reveal a name. It was like a codename that made sense to everyone. It certainly made sense that Automan was an Engineer, given he probably built these bots himself.

The Automan’s sigh was loud and clear on the speaker, “Fine. It’ll all just be the same then. You think you’re right and know everything. You think you’ve done right by everybody. And I’ll come out as the bad guy all the same. Whatever. I’m done with this.”

“I don’t think I know everything!” the Medic slammed a fist on the desk as he turned towards the bot.

“Ho ho, somebody’s got opinions about their own behavior,” there was strong amusement in the man’s voice.

“Yes, and I know what I’ve said. I know what I’ve meant. And I’m telling you to get out!” the Medic pointed towards the door again.

“Be the way you are,” the Automan growled, “You’ll always be that way. Never able to connect to people like a human being.” With that, the bot turned, stomping towards the door.

“At least I’m the one living like a human being!” the Medic shouted at the bot’s back.

Automan ignored the Medic, as he stomped towards the door. Hamish panicked as he realized that the bot was coming right towards him. He would not be able to escape being found out, but he could at least get out of the way of the doors.

He was not quite out of the door’s swinging range, so he held out a palm to stop it short of hitting him. The bot stomped out of the door and let the double doors swing shut. When it turned, it suddenly looked down.

Hamish looked away when he was caught. He knew he would be caught. He was not fast enough to get away from the door, and he knew that. Still, curiosity had drawn him in, all the way up to the last moments. He realized now, under the gaze of this bot being driven by a real person that he was foolish and knew better.

“How much did you see?” the Automan asked.

“N-not much,” Hamish was hesitant at first, unsure of how to gauge the man’s emotions through the reactionless visage of a bot, “I heard commotion and worried somebody might have gotten hurt.”

“Right,” Automan responded flatly, “Well, you don’t have to worry about anything.” The Engineer at the other end gave out a long sigh. “Your Medic’s fine, just angry.”

Hamish hurried after the bot as it turned, “Wait.”

The bot kept moving, forcing him to crawl as fast as he could. It was difficult and he struggled to try and keep up. By the time it rounded a corner, he was out of breath. He could not even figure out which way it went, as its loud stomping steps faded away in the distance.

Tired, Hamish resigned himself to return to Scout’s room. By the time he got there, he could feel the need for sleep in all of his muscles. He crawled over Coyote and slipped back into the spot he was in before. Coyote shifted, giving a sigh as he wrapped his arms around Hamish.

“Where did you go?” Coyote asked softly.

“Bathroom,” Hamish lied, as he wrapped his arms around the younger man.

The same morning routine came around. Coyote Scout was up and out at the kitchen. Hamish was still feeling the pain in his muscles and could barely peel himself off the bed. He barely managed to get himself to the door when a knock came at it.

He was shocked, with every hair standing on end, when he saw a bot at the door. He blinked, trying to get a better idea of what was going on. Hardly anybody really talked to him, and he doubted anybody else realized that he was staying there, other than Chameleon.

He suddenly smiled when he realized what this was, “You got me! I didn’t take you for a prankster, Chameleon. But you got me!” He laughed, just to show it was all in good humor.

“I’m not a chameleon, son,” Automan’s voice came through the bot.

This gave Hamish pause. The adrenaline of panic rushed through his veins again. He could not think of what to do either. He was not able to move fast enough if the bot was going to do something to him. Even if he slammed the door and locked it, it could probably break right through.

“I wanted to thank you,” the Automan said.

Shocked, Hamish must have paused for a long minute before he said, “Um…you’re welcome? For what?”

“The sandwiches,” the Automan said, “The other day you made sandwiches.”

Relief came slowly, but it let Hamish smile, “It was no problem.”

“It…uh…I appreciate it,” the man at the other end of the speaker said, “I know my reputation around these parts. I’m not…the easiest to get along with.”

Hamish chuckled at that, “You certainly make it hard for anyone to get along.”

“Yea,” the Automan agreed, “I can’t say I blame them. But…then again, I don’t have much in the way to be so nice.”

“I think that sounds like you’re making up excuses,” Hamish informed him. There was a long silent pause that made his hackles rise. So, he added, “Just a bit.”

“I wanted to ask a favor,” Automan admitted, “If…it’s not too imposing.”

“I’m a bit surprised, but I can do a favor…depending on what it is,” Hamish replied, “What’s the favor?”

“Could you…could you make sandwiches for me?” Automan asked, “If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Sure,” Hamish nodded.

It had been a bit of a put off to learn that Automan came here for a favor. Knowing that it was hunger that drove him to this, Hamish understood. Whatever was going on with the man that kept him in his room was clearly personal. He was keeping to himself, either for the feeling of shame or the physical issues he was dealing with. He was a generally shameless man, and even he felt a little ashamed of his own body, a sensitive man must have it far worse.

“Really?” Automan sounded so relieved.

“Sure, but you’ve got to carry me there,” he held up a hand, hoping the man on the other end understood the transaction at play here.

“Alright,” the speaker clicked and the bot bent down to pick him up. There was clearly a loss of understanding for why he was holding up his arm. All the same, the bot lifted him and turned to head down the hall to the kitchen.

Hamish got his tentacles around the thing’s arm to stabilize himself. He held on tight as it carried him to the kitchen. Hamish was a little embarrassed to be held like this by the bot as there were others in the dining area, and seeing the bot carrying him made them look.

He was relieved once they reached the kitchen because the only people present were his two favorite people. Coyote Scout was busily cooking eggs and ham. On the side, Chameleon was sautéing some vegetables. It looked and smelled delicious.

“I hate broccoli,” Coyote grumbled, “There’s no way I’m eating that. Hamish will ag- Oh hey!” Coyote’s greeting smile immediately dropped when he processed the bot holding Hamish.

Hamish pointed to a counter where he could easily reach sandwich supplies without being near the hot stove the other two were cooking on. “Over there,” he directed. He was held out to the counter and had to climb on by himself.

“What are you…doing?” Coyote asked.

“Making sandwiches,” Hamish said, as he pulled out one of the tin trays.

“Sandwiches huh? Preparing a picnic or something for lunch?” Coyote chuckled.

“No,” he replied, as he opened the jar of peanut butter and slathered slices of bread with it, “Just making some sandwiches for Automan.” A glance over his shoulder revealed how irritated that made Coyote.

“Don’t take advantage of his kindness, Automan,” Chameleon spoke up.

“He’s not taking advantage of anything,” Hamish said firmly, “He asked a favor. I’m doing him a favor.”

“Yea, he asks a lot of favors,” there was something sharp and spiteful in the Coyote Scout’s voice.

“This is the first he’s asked me,” Hamish shrugged, as he began slathering bread with strawberry jam.

“He’ll ask another,” Chameleon said, “And another.”

“You’re wasting your time if you think he’ll change,” Coyote added, “He never changes.”

“It’s always the same song and dance,” Chameleon added, “Isn’t it, Automan? You _make friends_ and then they find out what a selfish prick you really are. You’d waste less of everybody’s time if you just left well enough alone. Hamish is the last person who deserves to be taken advantage of.”

Hamish turned around, “The man’s hungry and neither of you two care to do anything about it.” He waved the butter knife at them.

They shared a look and looked a little ashamed. At least, Coyote looked a little ashamed, with rosy cheeks and his face turned down. Chameleon’s cheeks were a bit rouge, but he was far less affected. Knowing he could alter his colors, it might well be a conscious choice to make his cheekbones a little red.

“He’ll only take advantage of you,” Chameleon warned, “Now it’s just a plate of food. Next it’s this, then that.”

“The next thing you know, you’re an errand boy for a titanic asshole,” Coyote added, banging a spatula against the pan loudly.

“Do you two think I’m incapable of saying no?” he watched them, but neither of them answered. They kept their eyes on their cooking, pretending to be too busy to answer that. “You think just because of my stature and nature I can’t turn somebody down?” The pressing did nothing to get them to answer. It certainly turned up the look of shame on the Coyote’s face though. “You two are really going to stand there and judge a man who’s hungry, and a man who’s decided to help?”

“Now it’s a tray of food,” Chameleon repeated, “Next it’ll be other things, and before you know it, you won’t know why you’re helping him anymore.”

Hamish rolled his eyes and returned to his work. He paired up the sandwiches and put them all together. Once they were ready, he handed the tray over to the bot to grab. It took special care in taking the tray so that it would not fall.

The speaker clicked and the Automan’s voice finally spoke, “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Hamish gestured in farewell, “Anytime.”

As the bot left, there was silence in the kitchen. Even when it was gone, all Hamish could hear was the sizzling pop of the ham and the scraping of spatulas. It seemed the food had more to say than the judgmental men who frowned on this favor he did for Automan.


	16. Surrounded by Jerks

Nothing was said about it. It amazed Hamish. Neither of them bothered to actually bring up what had occurred with Automan. Worse yet, they all sat down in the dining area and began eating together. Not that Hamish minded that, he wanted his two determinate friends – and possible lovers – to get along. He could not help but stare at them, mind boggled that Coyote was now chatting with the man about cooking oils.

Chameleon was a bit relaxed, though maybe that was just a façade. He seemed to be getting along fine with the conversation without getting irritated at Coyote. Hamish wondered if they just needed something in common to talk about all along. They might have been friends a long time ago.

“Since when did…you two…” he gestured between Chameleon and Coyote as he cut into their conversation.

Chameleon shared a look with Coyote, before he asked, “What?”

“You two are talking like you’re friends?” Hamish looked from one to the other.

“Yea well…” Coyote rubbed the back of his neck, ears pinned back, “We can…_try_ being friends…I guess.”

Hamish blinked at him, “Just yesterday you were irritated at him for coming into your space.”

“Well, that was because he came into _my_ space!” Coyote barked angrily.

“Alright, easy,” Hamish raised his hands defensively, “Down boy.”

Chameleon cleared his throat. He made a face at Coyote. Coyote sighed and turned back to Hamish more calmly, “It’s…He made a good point…about…us.”

“Us?” Hamish pressed.

Chameleon cleared his throat again. This time he was being much louder. The facial expression of widened eyes and tightened lips directed at the Scout was very telling of what he wanted.

“We’re both friends with you,” Coyote finally explained, “You’re our mutual and we didn’t really have that before.”

“Um…you’re welcome?” Hamish scrunched his brow at them.

“I still don’t like him,” Coyote shook his head with a sigh.

An irritable sigh escaped Chameleon and he rolled his eyes. Before Hamish knew it, the two of them were yelling at each other. He could barely keep up with it. They were slowly getting higher and higher, crossing over the table to yell closer to each other’s faces.

They were interrupted by a loud screech. It was so jolting that even Hamish put his hands over his ears. Slowly, he turned around to find the Bird Soldier at the end of the table. When he stopped screeching, he looked at them with a sideways turned head, curiously studying them.

“Now you’ve upset the Bird Soldier,” Chameleon gestured to Coyote.

“You two are…” Hamish sighed, shaking his head. It took a moment for him to realize that the other men were looking at him now, paying no mind to each other. “Be friends or don’t,” Hamish said, “Make the effort, or don’t bother. Don’t fake it for nothing.”

“I’m…I’m gonna put the effort! Don’t worry!” Coyote raised his hands.

“I didn’t ask you to,” Hamish told him.

“It’s simply a courtesy, Hamish,” Chameleon interrupted.

“If you two want to be courteous and make friends, that’s fine,” Hamish looked from one to the other, “But don’t act like it’s my fault.”

“Nobody said it was,” Coyote protested.

“You need an attitude adjustment,” Hamish pointed to Coyote’s face. He turned to the Chameleon Spy with a frown. “And you know better.” There was silence following this.

He turned from them to the Bird Soldier. He held up an arm and the man did not need to be told what it was for. He took Hamish by the arm and hoisted him up to be held on the Bird Soldier’s side.

“What? You’re going with him? Why? What the fuck?” Coyote got to his feet and gestured to the food on the table, “I made you eggs! You haven’t even eaten yet!”

“And I’m not hungry to eat with a couple of immature buffoons,” Hamish scorned. He turned his attention to the Bird Soldier, who seemed unable to decide on who to focus his eye on. “Let’s go. I’m sure you had something to show me? Or something interesting to do? Please…”

Without a sound, the Bird Soldier turned and marched to the door. Hamish tried not to look over his shoulder. For a moment he could see Coyote out of the corner of his eye and he could see the younger man quietly _”yelling”_ at the Spy, with aggressive gestures.

Hamish looked away, trying not to think about it. He did not like suddenly leaving them after they made a splendid breakfast. His stomach did not like leaving behind such a splendid breakfast, as it growled with distaste for the absence of food. He ignored that too, as he tried to be more curious about where Bird Soldier was taking him.

He was surprised when they stepped through the double doors to the infirmary. Hamish glanced around while his eyes adjusted to the change of lighting. The Medic was cleaning some of the tables and beds he worked with, using what smelled like strong cleaners.

“Ah! There you are! I was worried when Bird Soldier kept coming back without you,” the Medic said with a cheerful smile.

“What?” Hamish glanced at the Bird Soldier.

“I guess he couldn’t find you,” the Medic shrugged this off.

“What was he sent to look for me for?” Hamish inquired.

Medic raised his head and tossed his cleaning supplies aside, “Tests.”

Hamish frowned. It was always tests with this man. It could have been anything. But he just wanted to run some more tests.

Hamish was relieved when the last needle came out. He was more irritated now than when he arrived. Having been poked and prodded with not a thing to eat, he was antsy for a chance to punch something.

“You’re all finished,” the Medic assured him.

“Finally,” Hamish sighed with relief.

Medic gave a sigh as well, “Everybody has to seem like they’re in a hurry to be gone.”

“To be fair, the only time you’re nice is when you want something,” Hamish informed him, “The last time I was in here, you were just an ass.”

Medic’s eyes flared, gleaming fiery blues, “And everyone comes here to use my equipment and use my time. Now get out.”

Hamish hesitated, before climbing off of the table. The Bird Soldier was hesitant, not wanting to step near the Medic. He seemed to be upset by the man. Perhaps it was the sudden flare of temper.

“I suppose you’ve found somewhere to sleep,” the Medic added, with a snide tone, “I suppose you won’t be needing this expensive tank that takes up so much of my work space.”

Hamish pursed his lips and looked to the floor. At this angle, Medic could not see his face. He was not sure how he would react to seeing his face. He wondered if he wanted to know how Medic would react to his current expression. In the end, he chose not to look back up at the Medic.

“No, I suppose I won’t,” Hamish replied, as he proceeded towards the door.

Halfway there, Bird Soldier scooped him up. Bird Soldier kept a steady stride as he thrust his palm out and threw the doors open. He marched right out into the hallway and proceeded around a bend.

“Mind dropping me off at Coyote Scout’s room? I’m not in a mood to be about right now,” Hamish requested, accepting the position he was being held in.

The Bird Soldier made a cooing sound but did not change his route. He kept on going, with Hamish under his arm. Hamish already had a hunch about where they were going, so he was unsurprised when Bird Soldier brought him to his roost at the top floor of a building outside.

Bird Soldier set him right down on the bed, then turned to an old record player. He placed a vinyl and it started playing an old rendition of “Over the Rainbow.” Bird Soldier sat down on the bed beside him and wrapped him in his arms. He held Hamish like this, just sitting there quietly.

Hamish finally sighed and relaxed against the man’s chest. Over his head, he could sort of feel the beak resting over his hair. His hear could hear the calm heart, like the soothing rhythm of a drum.

“You know kindness, don’t you Soldier?” he asked softly.

Bird Soldier’s response was to rub Hamish’s head through his hair. He was silent. Not that there were any words he could say. Poor man was trapped with the vocal cords of a bird, probably an eagle.

“I think our friends and basemates don’t understand kindness,” Hamish relented.

Bird Soldier cooed and continued rubbing his head. There was not much else he could do to communicate. Hamish took this as meaning that he understood the sentiment. Hamish was sure that with his current state, Bird Soldier knew better than anybody how hard it was to make friends and feel loved.

Hamish reached up to rub the Bird Soldier’s head. The bird-like head pressed into his hand, letting his fingers play with the feathers.

“I wish I could ask you what you thought about Automan,” Hamish relented.

Bird Soldier’s hand stopped. He tilted his torso sideways as he tried to meet Hamish’s gaze. Hamish wondered what it meant to Bird Soldier, what he wanted to say about the topic.

“Everybody I’ve seen so far has been unreasonably mean to him…or when talking about him,” Hamish explained.

Bird Soldier clicked his beak. Hamish was not sure what it was supposed to mean.

“All I did was show a bit of kindness,” Hamish explained, “Made him some sandwiches. He can’t make them for himself, can he?”

Bird Soldier hesitated, then shook his head. At least Bird Soldier could respond to yes-or-no questions.

“They wanted me to be unkind and say no,” Hamish went on, “Do you think it’s right of them to say that?”

Bird Soldier hesitated before shaking his head vigorously. He blinked at Hamish, tilting his head.

“I thought the same,” Hamish nodded in agreement, “It’s my choice whether I accept doing a favor for him or not. Isn’t it?”

Bird Soldier nodded in agreement to that. His hand resumed stroking Hamish’s head.

“I mean, I do enough for others as it is,” Hamish added, “This whole…being kind to them but not to Automan? I think they can shove it up their asses.”

Bird Soldier nodded again. This time he had his eyes closed as he nodded.

“I don’t think they’re going to listen to me, though,” Hamish went on.

Bird Soldier just went on nodding with his eyes still closed. Hamish was not even sure if he was paying attention anymore. Not that it mattered, it felt good just to get this out into the air.

“I don’t know much about Automan,” Hamish admitted, “Do you like him?”

Suddenly, Bird Soldier’s eyes popped open. He blinked and quickly shook his head. It was clear that Bird Soldier had already decided a long time ago how he felt about the man behind the bots.

“Hmmph,” Hamish sighed, “I suppose nobody does. He doesn’t seem to be a well-liked man.”

Bird Soldier tilted his head the other way. He stared at Hamish curiously, waiting for more of an explanation.

“I don’t think it’s wise to just take everybody on their word,” Hamish added, “I’m not sure I’d be able to change Automan worth anything, but I can at least try to be friendly. So far, he seems to be taking to that.”

Bird Soldier gave a sigh, his shoulder shrugging dramatically. Hamish blinked at him, watching his reaction to this.

“Alright, I can see you really don’t like him,” Hamish slipped off of the bed, “That’s fine. But, if it’s all the same to you, I think I’d like to be alone.”

It was hard enough that others wanted him to deny kindness just because _they_ did not like Automan. He did not really feel the kindness from the Soldier, if he really did not like the Automan either.

Bird Soldier had no way to argue, so he simply stood up and turned off the record player. He scooped up Hamish and carried him back down the stairs. It was coincidental that they passed one of the bots patrolling the hallways, but Bird Soldier looked away.

When Bird Soldier stopped, they were at Coyote Scout’s door. Bird Soldier set him on the ground before knocking on the door. Before Hamish could get out a word, the door flew open and Coyote was standing right there.

“Bird Sol-” Coyote cut off as he noticed Hamish on the floor, “There you are!”

“Here I am,” Hamish sighed.

“Thanks, Bird Soldier,” Coyote stepped aside to let Hamish in.

Bird Soldier perked up and gave the Scout a salute. When Coyote closed the door, Hamish was halfway to the bed.

“So…where’ve you been?” Coyote asked.

Hamish climbed up onto the edge of the bed, “Medic had some tests he wanted to do.”

“Right…right…” Coyote swung his arms around, looking everywhere but at Hamish.

Hamish scooted over until he could lay his head on the pillows. He closed his eyes as he let out a sigh. He just wanted to mope for the rest of the day.

Coyote sat down on the bed, causing it to shift. His warm hand laid on two of his tentacles. “You want to maybe…fool around a bit?” Coyote suggested. He sounded excited at his idea.

“I’m not in the mood,” Hamish sighed.

“Oh,” Coyote replied softly, “Um…are you mad at me? You’re mad at me, aren’t you?”

Hamish opened his eyes to look at the youth. Coyote was rubbing his neck as he looked around the room. “I’m not mad,” Hamish said. It was true though, he was not angry in the least, still just disappointed in his friends. “Would I be here if I was mad?”

“Maybe,” Coyote shrugged.

Hamish sighed and shook his head, “Likely not.”

“I mean,” Coyote argued, “Medic’s been less than hospitable to you in the infirmary.”

“Yea,” Hamish looked up at the ceiling, where the lewd pictures of women tried to provoke him.

“Aside from myself and Chameleon, I don’t know who else you talk to that you’d be comfortable staying with,” Coyote added.

Hamish nodded as he spoke. He did not want to admit it, but he had to. At least, he had to tell himself the truth. He had become completely dependent on others. He did not like it, but this was how things had come to be.

“I mean, you’re welcome to stay here,” Coyote added, “I don’t mind.”

“I’m not mad,” Hamish repeated, “I’m just disappointed.”

“Well…” Scout paused, looking down at the floor by his feet, “I’m sorry I disappointed you.”


	17. Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hamish meets another canine experiment.

“I don’t get it,” Coyote said as he walked through the door. Hamish turned his head to look at the Scout as he tossed his towel into a hamper. “You wanted us to get along. So, we tried that. Then you got mad. So, what the hell do you want, Hamish?” Coyote turned to him with his ears perked to listen for an answer.

“You’re still on that?” Hamish was not exactly the type to hold a grudge. He had been disappointed with them, but he could get over it well enough. He was not still pondering that.

“Well,” Coyote chewed on his lip, “I don’t want you to stop fucking me. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t go suck his dick…or whatever. I don’t want this to become awkward. Just tell me what to do!”

“I can’t do that,” Hamish shook his head.

“Well, why not?” Coyote demanded with a stomp of his foot.

“Because you have to make your own decisions,” Hamish insisted, “I can’t go around making all your decisions. You’re your own person. You know that.”

“But-” Coyote scoffed, “You were mad about the choice I made! How am I supposed to do better then?”

“By learning,” Hamish rolled his eyes, “You could really stand to learn some social skills.”

“Oh?” Coyote walked to the bed and bent over him. He placed a hand against the wall to keep his balance, whilst his hair dripped shower water off his freshly cleaned hair. Despite the shadows that hid the color of his face, his eyes were alight with flames. “How would I do that?”

Hamish was about to be smart about this and open his mouth to instruct the Scout to go out and do something kind for somebody he did not normally like or get along with. But then he shut it because he knew that Coyote was not being serious. That gleam was a primitive flame that burned in the youth’s soul. That and from this angle, Hamish could see the tent in his sweatpants.

“You’re still mad at me?” hesitation came with raised questioning brows.

“Come here,” he lifted two tentacles to wrap around Coyote’s middle.

Coyote grinned as he was pulled closer. Giving in, he placed his hands on the bed to support his own weight. He was only inches away, so he quickly pecked Hamish’s face.

Hamish slipped two more tentacles down the front of the sweatpants, which gave ample room for him to play with the throbbing erection waiting for him. Coyote gave a low welcoming moan.

“Atta boy,” Hamish patted Coyote’s head, as he slipped more tentacles into the rim of his sweatpants.

His pants began slipping down, until they showed the top of his butt crack. Hamish let it slip, amused as he felt around the warm undercarriage. It did not take much to find his hole and slip a tentacle in. Coyote’s gasp was even cuter when punctuated by the heat in his face. He thrusted his hips, wildly bucking to get more friction against the warm tentacles that now had completely devoured his privates. Hamish tried only teasing his most sensitive spot a little bit, and it caused him to buck some more.

“You’re in quite a frisky mood,” Hamish commented.

“I uh…I think I’d be in a mood to top somebody if I had somebody to top,” Coyote admitted with a shy smile.

“Not enough for ya?” Hamish asked, a little disappointed that this wasn’t doing it for him like it usually would.

“No, just keep squeezing like that,” Coyote pleaded, tail wagging behind him, “Just lemme get it out of my system?”

Hamish nodded, tensing the tentacles around his cock. Coyote’s tail was wagging vigorously as he thrusted his hips. He quickly began to pant as he thrusted hard and fast. Hamish watched him, not pushing the youth too much, as he admired the sheer enthusiasm behind his humping. It was not long before cum squeezed between his tentacles, oozing all over. Coyote’s eyes were rolled back and he dropped to the bed to relax.

Hamish froze when Coyote grunted, “Um…can we…not do the overstimulating part today? I’m…not up for it now.”

Hamish quickly removed his tentacles. It took all of the effort in his body to remove them, as the minds they had for themselves fought to take hold of that tired body and fuck it. Once his tentacles were removed, he wrapped an arm around Coyote, pulling him closer. The Scout cuddled up to his side, with his arms scrunched up against his chest.

“I was a little surprised,” Hamish admitted, “You’re usually asking for more.”

“I’m sorry,” Coyote had this cute little whimper that caught Hamish by surprise, “I…I can suck you off, if you need?”

“It’s alright,” Hamish stroked Coyote’s hair, “No need.” He tried his damnedest to think of everything and anything that would turn him off of sex. Having ten tentacles that wanted to stuff Coyote’s orifices was simply not the same as one penis. He was fighting a losing battle.

“I just…don’t want to leave you hanging like that,” the Scout’s eyes were already beginning to shut. His exhaustion came out in a yawn.

“You wore yourself out with that,” Hamish chuckled, still stroking his hair.

“Yea,” Coyote’s grin was so sloppy that it pleased Hamish that he gave the Scout what he needed.

“What were you thinking about?” Hamish kind of wanted to tease his partner, just a little bit.

“It was a fantasy,” Coyote said, nuzzling against Hamish’s ribs, “A dream I have pretty often.”

“A dream? What kind of dream?” he could only imagine what kind of kinky things Coyote would dream about. He fantasized about wild things, his subconscious mind would no doubt take that to another level.

“I’ve…got like…fantasies for everybody…sometimes it’s just something I thought up myself,” Coyote explained, eyes closed tiredly, “Like being fucked by you. It was kind of a dream before. But then you came and I had a thought…that I wanted to do that. And then we did it and it’s the best sex of my life.”

“But what’s the fantasy you were thinking about?” Hamish pressed.

“Bunny Scout,” Coyote stated.

“Bunny Scout?” Hamish wasn’t even sure if Bunny liked men. It may be unlikely that Coyote could have that fantasy. “You were thinking about a fantasy with Bunny Scout?”

“I have this dream,” Coyote explained, “I didn’t really think it myself. It was…I think it was just cause I was horny before I went to bed. But sometimes…often time…I have this dream where I’m running. And then I’m chasing. And I finally catch it, and it’s Bunny Scout. I get him pinned down and suddenly he’s naked and perfectly ready for me to fuck.”

“That’s…something,” Hamish was not sure what to make of that. He was a little concerned of how Coyote might interpret that. He did not exactly explain if Bunny in his dreams was up for it.

“Bunny would never do something like that,” Coyote explained, “He’s an ass. An ass who probably only digs women. But…that dream kinda gets me going. So when I’m masturbating, I think about Bunny.”

“But why Bunny?” Hamish chuckled, “There are men here who actually like fucking with men.”

“Have you seen his legs,” Coyote’s eyes opened and his raised his brows.

“I am down on the ground all the time, I see leg all the time. I see your legs all the time,” Hamish should not have said this because now he was thinking about those long thick legs, with muscle he could squeeze with several tentacles at a time, as he pulled open those thighs to make room for more play. And now all he could do was curl his tentacles as they began throbbing again.

“Then you know, Bunny has like…a bubble butt,” Coyote raised a hand, as if imagining his hand cupping the aforementioned buttocks, “I once got an accidental feel of it. We were like, smooshed against each other cause of a fight. And it’s like…I can’t even explain his ass. You would love his ass!”

“I think your ass is just as delicious,” Hamish rubbed Coyote’s lower back, just avoiding his buttocks.

“You never eat my ass,” Coyote seemed like he was protesting.

“True,” Hamish raised his free hand defensively, “I don’t much care for putting my tongue in those places. But, it’s an expression. Your ass is lovely.”

“I barely have an ass,” Coyote giggled, as he closed his eyes again. He gave a big yawn as he doubled down on relaxing against Hamish’s side.

“It’s still a good ass,” Hamish rubbed Coyote’s back, hopefully lulling him to his restful slumber, “I love your ass.”

“I love you too,” Coyote mumbled as he dozed off.

Hamish sighed and smiled at the sleeping Scout. Maybe this was just nice enough to be content with. “I think I love you too.”

Hamish peeped around the corner and was relieved to see nobody. Though somebody could easily come quickly down the hall and find him anyways. But, just like every other hall, he figured it was best to at least try and be cautious.

He approached the door to Chameleon’s chambers and rapped his knuckles against the wood. Silence hung inside, leaving him to wonder if he was being ignored. Chameleon always seemed attentive to Hamish, so he was not sure what was keeping him.

“It’s me!” he called, but no response.

He decided to try the handle. Maybe he was stupid in not trying it. Chameleon might have been expecting him to come by. The man was good at interpreting peoples’ next moves.

Before he could grab the handle, a dark gloved hand grabbed his wrist. He opened his mouth and looked up, ready to greet the Spy. His smile fell but his mouth did not close when big gold eyes looked down at him. Big ears stood up, attentively twitching as their gazes locked. At this angle, this man looked intimidatingly tall.

“Hamish, is it?” the man’s voice was unmistakably French, with that crisp foreign accent. It sounded as thick as Chameleon’s accent.

“Yes?” he swallowed, unsure of how to feel about this confrontation.

“You and I need to talk,” before Hamish could respond, something was pulled over his head. He did not have a chance to do anything, as he was flipped right over. His tentacles could not even find grasp on anything, as he fell into what seemed to be a bag. It was just big enough for him too. Trapped inside, flipped the wrong side over, he could not fight back.

He ended up bouncing around. He could feel the body outside of the rough bag banging up against him. He was ignored though. It seemed that the man was moving at a sprint.

Hamish grunted under the strain of his position, “Who are you? What do you want?”

No response came. There was a sudden halt. He could hear the click of a door handle, then the creak of it swinging open. He listened to it swing shut as the person moved into the room.

He had no warning before he was suddenly dropped on his head. He cried out before struggling to right himself. Relief hit when the light hit his face. The bag pulled away and he found himself face to face with the man from before.

His breath caught as he stared up at the creature who had taken him. With a red mask over his face, most of him was covered, but clearly had an awkward shape. He could see enough from the ears popping out at the sides though, big red canine-like twitching parts. Behind him was a swaying appendage, thick with red, white and a little bit of black fluff. The man stood taller than he had any right to. He was slender in posture, but somehow managed to reach heights far higher than Chameleon. At the lower end of his impressive height were the man’s legs, bent in an awkward way that gave away that despite covering them in slacks, they were not built like a human’s.

He did not stand straight like a man. He stood hunched like his body was not meant to be this way. Another look and Hamish realized that the face was vulpine, with a black nose on the end, just poking under the stretched mask. The fur itself was not quite as red as the mask, but contrasted against it, his body appeared to be a solid red.

“Who…are you?” Hamish asked, finding it difficult to speak with this intimidating and impressive man before him.

“They call me Red,” he replied, putting his hands behind his back. Despite bending over Hamish, he still managed to be impressively tall. “Red the Spy.”

“Red…” Hamish repeated, swallowing down the nervousness. He was not sure if he should be afraid or awed or turned on. Though he was sure he should not be turned on, not after being kidnapped like this.

“Apologies,” the Spy said, “You seem quite afraid. I merely took the precautions I had to. I’m not one who welcomes visitors on frequent occasions.”

“You’re fairly well spoken,” he commented, with a chuckle, “You’re like a walking contradiction.”

“How is that?” the big vulpine ears laid back and the golden eyes narrowed at him.

“You…have a very good vocabulary in English, but you have a thick accent,” Hamish said, “Not that there’s anything wrong with it, French accents are hot. I-” The moment his jaw clicked shut, he bit down on his tongue. He held back the whimper as he realized his mistake.

“I’m aware of your _interest_ in Frenchmen,” Red said, shifting his weight on his paws. Hamish was surprised he had not noticed them before, with joints that would have been his ankles raised high.

“I’m…sorry if that makes you uncomfortable,” Hamish swallowed again as adrenaline pounded through his system, “It’s not a fetish by any means.”

“Your interests in the lizard aside,” the fox man’s hand came to Hamish’s throat and he was pushed back against the seat. The hand grasped tightly around his neck, refusing to let go. “Your interest in the Coyote is what concerns me,” Red explained.

“Coyote? Why?” Hamish felt his hands shaking. He had nothing to defend himself with and this man might kill him like this. His tentacles felt rather useless. All they had done for him so far was put him in a state of arousal to say all the wrong things and think of a dangerous situation in the wrong way.

“If you’ve done anything to him,” a lip rose, and Hamish could now see why the man’s face looked strange. His face was inhuman, with an elongated snout. The side lifted to reveal wicked sharp canines. “I will rip your throat out,” the man growled.

“You’re coming to me with this just now?” he asked, “We’ve been staying in the same room together for…I think it’s been weeks now!”

The hand pulled up on his neck, before slamming him back against the chair. “I know how long it’s been! I know what you’ve been up to! And if you’ve done anything to hurt him, I’ll make your death so painful!” Red’s voice sounded strange with the odd barking and yipping sounds. He was shaking, full of rage.

“I haven’t done anything to him that he doesn’t want me to!” Hamish exclaimed.

“You would say that,” those golden eyes narrowed and the hand tightened around his throat.

Panic took all confident thoughts away from Hamish. Instead, he reacted without thinking. The next thing he knew, two tentacles were wrapped around the man’s neck and he was holding onto the wrists at his own neck. He tightened hard on his grip, seeing as he might as well follow through with this panic induced plan.

“Release me, and I release you,” Hamish croaked through the pressure on his windpipe.

“I would hardly trust the likes of you!” Red growled, “Trust is earned, never given!”

“If you’re so willful about it,” Hamish tightened his grip harder. The fox man made desperate noises to get air. His tongue slipped out as his mouth tried to take in air. “You’ll pass out before long if you don’t back off,” Hamish croaked.

Suddenly, the hand slipped away from his neck. Both of Red’s hands went to the tentacles, desperately pulling at them. Hamish quickly untangled them and pulled them away. He glared at Red, watching him pant tiredly.

“You…have no idea who you’re dealing with!” Red raised his head to meet his gaze. Now, Red was down on the ground, looking up at him. He was less terrifying like this.

“I think you haven’t considered that either,” Hamish growled. He pushed himself up to try and raise himself to full height.

“You’d make a mistake of making an enemy of me, Hamish,” Red growled, drawing near to Hamish’s face.

An instinctive part of his mind wanted to flinch away from the carnivore face. He held as still as he could, refusing to back down. He deepened his frown, trying to match Red growl for growl.

He was startled when a hand grabbed the back of his neck. He reached back to grab it, only to find this a distraction. The next thing he knew, the other’s mouth was practically devouring his face, with tongue reaching into his throat to gag him.

After a few moments, Red pulled back. He put his hands over his snout, eyes wide with horror. He quickly turned around, hiding his face from Hamish. Dazed, Hamish stared at the fox-like creature in amazement.

“The hell was that?” Hamish inquired.

“Just…” Red hesitated, trembling where he stood, “Just go. Leave.”

Hamish slowly climbed off of the seat. He watched Red cautiously. After all, this could be a trap. He was not sure what had just happened with the devouring and the tongue thing. It had just been so fast and so surprising.

When Hamish reached the door, he looked back over at Red. The man was hunched over, back towards him, as he trembled. Part of him wanted to ask what was going on and what he was feeling. The rest of him told him to get the hell out of there. This fox man could still come running after him anyways. He needed to get going.

He said nothing as he slipped out the door. It was not long before he realized that he had no idea where he was. He was in a part of the base that was dark, with very few working hallway lights. He had never even been here before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meet Red, one of the deadliest mercenaries on base.


	18. Make Some Decisions

Hamish wandered the dimly lit halls for what felt like an hour or more. He felt all alone. He was more alone knowing that nobody was looking for him. Not knowing which way he was going, he stopped at another dead end.

“Not again,” he groaned. He was so tired. He wanted to be over with this nightmare that Red the Spy had thrown him into.

He was retracing his path when a familiar set of footsteps caught his ear. The heavy bot pounded all of its weight into the floor. Each step could have woken the soundest sleeper. For once, Hamish was glad for its existence.

“Hey!” he called out, hoping he might catch its attention. The Engineer might have a heart and take him to where he needed to go.

He kept moving. He focused on those footsteps, trying to meet the metal beast halfway. There was a chance it would not even come this way at all. He just had to do his best to draw the bot’s attention. Otherwise, he would be stuck wandering these halls.

“Automan!” he called, hoping it might draw more attention to himself.

The footsteps grew louder. He celebrated as he hurried towards them. He was thrilled to be getting out of this uncharted area. He needed to get out, and when he did, the most difficult thing was going to be picking between kissing Chameleon or Coyote first.

The bot came around the corner, and Hamish crawled as fast as he could towards it. Oh how happy he was to finally be set free from this nightmare. He waved his arms up as high as he could reach them. Despite his exhaustion, he was feeling his second wind. He hurried to confront the bot, wearing a big smile.

“Hey! I-” he was cut off as the bot drew a rocket launcher.

“Identify yourself, maggot!” the Soldierbot demanded.

“What?! Uhh…” adrenaline coursed through his veins. He could barely think straight. “Automan!” he cried out, “Automan, it’s me! Help me out here!”

“Negatory!” the Soldierbot went into full offense as it lowered its rocket launcher to aim at Hamish’s face, “Say your prayers, scum!”

“No! Wait! Automan, it’s me!” he pleaded.

His whole body trembled. He felt so stupid. He had forgotten that Automan was not driving all of these bots all of the time. Most of them were on an automated drive system. It identified mercenaries with codenames. Being the only one without a codename, he was left in his own stupidity.

There was a sudden beep. Then there was a click. The Soldierbot was still for a moment. Then it began to move, returning to a neutral stance. It holstered the rocket launcher on its back, returning itself to a non-offensive position.

Another click came before Automan’s voice, “What the hell are you thinking? Do you have a death wish?”

“Uh…no,” Hamish protested, shaking his head.

“You ain’t even registered a codename yet!” the Automan went on yelling.

“I’m aware of that,” Hamish raised his hands, “I’m just uh…I’m lost and I didn’t think it would be a problem.”

He heard the Automan sigh over the radio, “Look, son. You could get hurt like that. Why not try a codename?”

“Maybe later,” Hamish waved his hands, “Could I get a lift? I…don’t know where to go from here.”

“The hell did you end up over in sector C? You’re supposed to be around sector A,” Automan said, grumpily.

“Well, you see,” Hamish began.

“No, forget it,” Automan dismissed the discussion. The Soldierbot suddenly stepped forward and scooped up the Demoman. Hamish’s tentacles quickly grasped at the thing’s arms. “I’m not worried about the story. I don’t care to know what you were doing. I’ll just take you back to sector A. Sound fair?”

Hamish nodded, “Do you know where Chameleon’s room is?”

“Do I know where Chameleon’s room is,” Automan grumbled, “Of course I do! I know where everyone is!”

“Can you take me there, please?” he requested.

Automan sighed again, “Alright. You owe me for this.”

“More sandwiches then?” Hamish chuckled.

“That would be nice,” Automan admitted, “I…enjoyed the ones you gave me…before.”

“Well good, then I’ll make you something more. Maybe something…that’s not a sandwich,” Hamish suggested. He tried not to make it obvious that this ride was too uncomfortable. The metal beast was harsh to lean on and every step shook its body.

“No, sandwiches are fine,” Automan insisted.

Hamish could practically feel every step shaking the ground beneath it. It had to be so heavy to make such loud noises. He was not sure the biggest hooved man on base made such big noises when he walked.

“Here we are,” Automan announced as he set Hamish on the ground, “You’d better knock. I have to go.”

“I’ll catch up with you later?” Hamish suggested.

“Later, partner,” the Soldierbot nodded to Automan’s words, “For now…uh…Chameleon doesn’t like me so much. So, I should be going.”

“See you,” Hamish waved, before knocking on the door.

As if the man had been peeping, the door only opened once the bot disappeared around the corner. Chameleon was dressed down to a robe and a mask. He had a sunken look, with red eyes.

“Hamish? What is it? Why’d you bring that…thing to my door?” Chameleon glared down the hallway the way the bot had gone.

“Mind if I come in?” Hamish asked, “I’d like to talk.”

“Yea, sure,” Chameleon drew a handkerchief from his pocket to rub his nose as he stepped aside for Hamish to enter.

Once Hamish was inside and the door closed, he got a good look at what was going on. If the congested voice and coughing did not tip him off, the use of the fireplace to boil water to steam the room told him plenty. He was hesitant to touch anything, knowing he might get sick from contamination.

“What did you want to talk about?” Chameleon strolled across the room to plop on the couch, knees spread out as he slouched. His whole face drooped with utter exhaustion and misery.

“If I had known you were feeling like shit, I wouldn’t have come to bother you. I wanted to talk to you about what happened before,” he explained.

“About before?” the Spy coughed into his handkerchief.

“We can talk another time. You seem to have…to have gotten rapidly sick,” Hamish explained, “Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m fine,” Chameleon said, rubbing his nose with the handkerchief.

“Seriously though,” Hamish pressed.

“I assure you,” Chameleon took a deep breath, “I’m fine. I just need rest. Ooh! While I have you here…”

He got up off the couch and walked to the other end of the room. He returned with some paper bags with company logos and names on them. Hamish did not know any of them, so he could not guess what was in them. He was surprised when one bag was emptied of contents that were shirts.

“You want my opinion on your sense of fashion?” Hamish teased.

“I bought you some clothes,” Chameleon countered, “No pants, obviously. The shirts should fit you though. Try them on.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Hamish said, as he pulled one of the flannels around to slip his arms into the sleeves, “You shouldn’t have done this.”

“I wanted to,” Chameleon insisted, “It’s hard enough knowing you walk on all your…dicks.” Chameleon seemed amused, as a little smile spread across his face at this. “At least you can _try_ to be dressed. Right?”

Hamish winced, “Dicks?” He buttoned up the flannel, shifting the shirt to remove all of its wrinkles.

“We both know it,” Chameleon snickered, “Just because Medic and others don’t know about it doesn’t make it untrue.”

“When they’re in their neutral state, they’re just…legs…arms…something like that,” Hamish shook his head.

“Arms…I don’t think there would be a way to make clothing with enough sleeves,” Chameleon commented.

Hamish shifted his shoulders under the shirt, “It fits nice.”

“It looks good on you,” Chameleon smiled. He reached over to adjust the collar of the shirt. “It’s about time you looked like a civil man.”

Hamish chuckled, “Yea, it does feel nice having a shirt on.” He was not about to mention how strange it also felt. It had been so long since he wore any clothing on his chest that his nipples were already tender.

“So,” Chameleon rubbed his nose with his handkerchief as he turned to the other bags, “I have been thinking…”

“About what?” Hamish pulled open one of the bags to peer inside. There was a bottle of schnapps sandwiched with some dish soap and a bottle of cola. “Are you planning a party?”

“Well,” Chameleon pulled some things out of another bag, drawing Hamish’s attention. He watched as Chameleon pulled out a few dozen shirts, some sweaters, a scarf and a couple of warm hats. “I was thinking about…this set up,” Chameleon explained.

“Are you planning a visit to the snow?” Hamish picked up the warm blue and white snow-themed scarf with both hands, “It looks like you’re planning some sort of party someplace cold.”

“The desert gets cold sometimes,” Chameleon explained, “I’m trying to talk about Coyote!”

“What about Coyote?” Hamish met the Spy’s gaze.

Chameleon took the scarf and stuffed everything back into the paper bag. He quickly licked his lips before meeting Hamish’s gaze again, “I have a little…interest…in playing with him.”

“You mean like baseball,” Hamish raised an eyebrow, “I didn’t take you for the sporty type.”

“No, like…” Chameleon rolled his wrist in a gesture that did not encompass anything Hamish could figure out.

“Speak plainly,” Hamish demanded, “We’ll get to your point faster.”

“It’s difficult,” Chameleon hesitated, reaching behind to scratch his neck, “Coyote and I don’t get along. We don’t like each other much.”

“I have gotten as much,” Hamish rolled his eyes.

“But…Coyote isn’t the most…unattractive young man,” Chameleon explained, “Especially given the types around here.”

“What are you saying?” Hamish scrunched his brow as he peered at the Spy’s face.

“I am saying I want to fuck your little boyfriend,” Chameleon answered, “But I want to ask your permission first.”

Hamish laughed. He fell back, letting his seat catch him. He was not sure how long he was laughing before he realized that Chameleon was not laughing. Right, he figured he should have caught that before he got to the third bark of laughter.

“You want to fuck Coyote?” Hamish asked. He was not sure he believed it.

“Yes,” Chameleon nodded.

When the man said nothing more, Hamish decided to press for information, “And…you want to fuck him despite not liking him.”

“That is correct,” Chameleon nodded.

“And you’re asking _me_ for permission? Not advice or something?” Hamish squinted up at the Spy.

“Exactly,” Chameleon nodded, “No advice. Just permission.”

“Well, you don’t need my permission. You and Coyote can do whatever you want. You’re grown men,” Hamish answered.

“Well, you’re with him,” Chameleon argued.

“Not like…with him with him,” Hamish insisted, “He knows I suck you off and you suck me off. It’s not like he isn’t allowed to fuck other people.”

“Not the kind of vibe I get from him,” Chameleon gave him an amused smirk.

“And what would you know so much better than I about _my_ relationship with the lad?” Hamish folded his arms over his chest.

“I know he’ll do whatever you want him to,” Chameleon’s sly grin grew just a teensy bit bigger.

“I’m not telling him to suck your dick,” Hamish frowned.

“But he likes it, “Chameleon’s voice was dripping with tease, “He likes to be ordered around by you. He likes being needed by you.”

“I’m not telling him who to fuck,” Hamish raised a hand to stop him.

Chameleon ignored the gesture, “Then ask him. Ask him if he wants me to fuck him.”

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” Hamish scoffed.

“We don’t get along, that’s the point,” Chameleon chuckled.

“Sounds like a point to not have sex,” Hamish argued.

“Don’t be stubborn,” Chameleon leaned back and folded his arms as well, “I just think it would be hot to have sex with somebody I’d normally be at odds with. And Coyote…” He bit his lip with that grin on his face. “I’d like to-” He cut off with a fight of coughing he covered with the handkerchief. When he finally calmed down, he said, “I would enjoy bending him over.”

“You’re something,” Hamish rolled his eyes, “Not much left charming in you, is there?”

“I can be charming,” Chameleon countered, with a frown.

“You’re not being very charming with this,” Hamish argued, “And I don’t appreciate the disrespectfulness towards Coyote.”

“Alright, alright,” Chameleon lifted a hand and waved it, “Look, we can make it an exchange.”

“You want me to whore out Coyote Scout?” Hamish raised an eyebrow.

“No, no,” Chameleon chuckled, “Unless he likes that. I was thinking a similar exchange. He lets me fuck him to my heart’s content…I let him play out some little fantasy.”

“Like what?” Hamish asked.

Chameleon rubbed his nose and coughed, “I don’t know. I’m sure he talks about his fantasies. He’s got some raunchy ideas much of the time. I’m sure he would think of something he’d want to do with me. Or to me.”

Hamish felt his cheeks growing hot. Coyote was into all sorts of kinky stuff, and he was pretty sure he knew what he would want. He cleared his throat as he tried to remain completely calm.

“What if you’re not up for what he wants?” he inquired.

“That depends,” Chameleon eyed him thoughtfully, “Do you know what he wants?” There was something so sly in the way he bared his teeth in that grin.

“No, not yet,” Hamish said cautiously.

“Well? Will you ask him then?” Chameleon asked. Though, the tone in his words hinted that he already knew Hamish’s answer.

“Sure, I guess,” Hamish sighed.


	19. Discussing an Exchange with Coyote

When Hamish entered the room covered in a button up, Coyote looked stunned. He was quietly staring, while Hamish awkwardly crossed the room to the bed. He climbed up and settled down there before addressing the elephant in the room.

“Like it?” he popped up the collar playfully.

Coyote quickly adjusted his expression, letting out a little chuckle, “I didn’t take you for the kinda guy who wears those kinds of shirts. You look all…like…dolled up or something.”

“Just because I haven’t been dressed for weeks, doesn’t mean I must remain undressed forever,” Hamish argued, “Besides…” He paused to shake the bag given to him by the Spy. Half of his clothes had been left there, with half coming here to stay with Coyote. “I didn’t pick these out, they’re a gift.”

Coyote hopped onto his feet and began digging through the bag. He held one of the plaid shirts up to his chest, “I like that you’re bigger than me.”

Hamish glanced down at himself. When he looked up, the Scout was pulling on the shirt, showing off how baggy it fit around his chest and its length on his arms. Hamish was certainly broader in those dimensions.

“I only just got these, don’t steal them,” Hamish took the bag back with a chuckle.

“Doc never gives presents,” Coyote removed the shirt, “Where’d you get these?”

“Chameleon,” he answered.

The response was a sour, scrunched up nose, “I don’t like that guy.”

“Ah,” Hamish proceeded in folding up the clothes and putting them neatly together. He kind of wanted to figure out where he would be storing them, rather than assuming. Coyote was not the cleanliest of men, but he did use his dresser. Hamish was not about to tell him where to put his clothes, so he could fit his own laundry there.

“Ah?” Coyote eyed him, folding his arms, “That was a loaded ah. You already know I don’t like him.”

“Yes,” Hamish nodded, “That’s why I figured you wouldn’t be interested in his proposal.”

“Proposal?” Coyote blinked at him, “What kind of proposal?”

“A sexual exchange,” Hamish answered.

“A sexual what? What the fuck is that about?” Coyote gestured in exasperation.

“It’s a trade off,” Hamish raised his hands, “Of…sexual fantasies. He has a turn doing things to you. You get a turn to do things to him.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Hamish could see Coyote’s eyes widen as they lit up. “I didn’t offer up anything. He wanted me to ask you.”

“Wait…so like…” Coyote’s tail began to wag, swaying left and right. He did not seem to notice this though. “He wants to fuck me or something. And in return…I get to do whatever I want to him?” Coyote asked eagerly.

“He wants to fuck you to his heart’s content,” Hamish nodded. His cheeks heated when he remembered how many times he knew after the fact about Chameleon spying on the two of them fucking. “Though, he doesn’t know what you want in return…so…I’d have to ask him if he’s okay with it.”

It was a little disheartening when he finally thought about it. Chameleon was hesitant with him with doing anything beyond oral sex. Yet, he was ready to throw every ounce of hesitation out the window for somebody he disliked, Coyote.

“You okay?” Coyote’s tone changed. It was that change that made him realize that he had curled in all of his tentacles. He felt exposed and wished he had anything resembling pants to wear. “You…you can tell me if you don’t want us to do anything. I won’t want to if you don’t want me to.”

Hamish shook his head, “No no…I was thinking about something else. If you want to exchange…well…” He looked to Coyote. “What is your fantasy to do with him?”

Coyote’s lips spread in a broad grin, accompanied by an enthusiastic tail. He looked like he just won a lottery, “I have- I have a lot of ideas! I could- I could do a lot of things with him!” His tail just kept on wagging faster and faster.

“You have to pick one for this,” Hamish insisted. He chuckled, in spite of that bitter taste in the back of his mouth. “Pick any one fantasy and I’ll ask him.”

The bitterness got harsher. Oh Lord, he knew what this feeling was too. He was jealous.

Coyote grinned, “Well, if I gotta choose one…” He rubbed the back of his neck, but he was still grinning at Hamish. “There’s one thing I’ve been dreaming about lately,” Coyote explained, “And it involves you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to involve me,” Hamish raised his hands.

“Have to? No I want you! I want you to fuck him and me together!” Coyote announced excitedly.

“Together?” his gut twisted and his tentacles curled. It sounded like such a sweet promise to have two bodies to fill all at once. Yet, there was that sobering reality he knew of, “Ah wait-”

“I wanna watch you hold him down,” Coyote plopped down next to him. His tail beat against the blanket tirelessly as he recounted his fantasy. “I wanna watch him squirm while you fuck him in every possible way. I want you to fuck me too, of course. God, do I want to see that!” Coyote finally looked at him and his face turned rouge, “If you…want to…I mean. I don’t want to make you do something you don’t wanna. I just sort of assumed you could probably do both of us since you have so many tentacles.”

Hamish swallowed. The image made his tentacles curl again and he felt the heat spread through them. “Yea, I can, I just have to run it by him,” Hamish explained, “I’m not sure he would like it. Do you have a second offer? In case he turns that fantasy down?”

When he looked back at Coyote, he was already out of his shirt and was stripping off his pants. Coyote finally met his eyes while he was slipping out of his boxers. He blinked at Hamish, with the article of clothing partway down his legs. “I can plainly see I’m not the only one turned on right now.”

Hamish glanced down at the red tentacles, then looked at Coyote’s pink dick. He did want him, he was just surprised at how fast Coyote had jumped into stripping. Before he could comment on this, Coyote was on the bed, grabbing tentacles and pulling them out of their curled state.

“I can please you,” Coyote said out of the blue, “I can make you feel good like he does.” He slipped the tip into his mouth and sucked on it.

Hamish almost laughed. They rarely had a moment like this, where they just did something like oral sex. Maybe it was time Coyote had a lesson on how a blowjob worked.

“Let me show you how it’s done,” Hamish smirked and grabbed Coyote by the hips. He adjusted him to lean against the wall the bed was propped against and pulled his tentacle away.

“No wait!” Coyote pleaded, “I was just getting started!”

Hamish patted the outside of Coyote’s thigh as he slipped in between the other man’s legs, “Allow me to offer you a lesson.” He gently took his cock in hand, massaging it to full erect stance.

Coyote’s tail wagged and he let out a moan, “You’re going to suck me off?”

“I’m going to show you what a man can really do with his mouth,” Hamish explained.

Coyote sucked in sharply through his teeth as he watched Hamish approach. He bit into his lip as he watched Hamish take his dick into his mouth. He kept his eye on the other’s gaze as he danced his tongue around the head.

He listened to how the other man swooned under the touch of his tongue. He loved how he swooned and slouched into the bed and the wall. He turned into putty, slowly sinking down as if his body had lost all consistency. He hummed around his pretty pink cock, bringing more pleasure to the writhing man.

It did not take long before Coyote was cumming. Hamish licked up the mess sloppily, stroking him through his climax. If only Coyote could last longer, then Hamish could show him something better.

With a growling stomach, Hamish left the room to go to the mess hall. He was just to the doorway when he got an eerie sensation. He tried to ignore it as he proceeded inside. He stopped as he looked on those who were in the mess hall.

Every man was silent. Some of them were in the middle of eating, but their hands and mouths were frozen now. He followed the direction of their gazes to a large looming red figure. For a moment, even Hamish’s heart stopped as he looked at the red tail up to the vulpine face.

His breath caught as the spy turned his head to look down at him. He was as terrifying as the first time they met. Only here among others, he could see that there were not many people to do or say anything boldly if this creature crossed a line.

Red stepped cautiously, eyeing every person in the room as he made his way to the kitchen. That was where Hamish had been planning to go, but now he was hesitant to do so. He did not want to be alone with Red again.

The first disturbance to the stark silence was the crashing footsteps of a robot. He felt a little relieved knowing that one of the Soldierbots were coming this way. He could take advantage of the presence of a dangerous machine and make his meal in peace.

He waited near the door to the kitchen for the bot to enter the mess hall. It made its way to the door but did not acknowledge him. That was fine by him, as he simply followed behind it.

Red was bigger than the average man, like a beast that had been inflated beyond its normal size. It was like some prehistoric creature but with soft fur that looked pleasant, poking out from underneath clothes that did not fit properly enough. Despite his impeccable size, Red moved with the grace and elegance of a ballerina. Every step was made so modestly, it was hard to think that he was any heavier than Hamish himself.

He climbed up onto the counter to pull out some ingredients. That was when he heard Automan’s voice come over the speaker, “Red, you better not be causing trouble.”

That was all that was said. A growl came as response. Red glared at the bot, before his eyes caught Hamish. Hamish regretted looking at him, now that those sharp golden eyes were fixated on him. His heart began to pound as the thought of being some sort of prey began to wind up his need to flee.

His hands grew shaky as he turned back to what he was doing. He quickly grabbed ingredients, his hands snatching things so quickly it was hard to think. He was starting to get sloppy and ended up dropping the plastic wrapped loaf of bread onto the ground.

Without making a sound, Red snaked around the bot and grabbed for the bread. He rose slowly, coming just below Hamish’s level. His hand offered up the bread, while his eyes locked on Hamish.

“I said, don’t cause any trouble!” Automan barked over the speaker of his bot.

Red turned his head to glare again at the bot. His voice came from low in his throat, like a thick heavy growl, “No trouble. I’m merely helping.”

“It’s fine,” Hamish’s voice squeaked when he tried to speak. He quickly turned back to grabbing things so he could start making sandwiches.

“See?” Red spoke with almost a hiss in his voice, “It’s fine.”

“Go back to your own thing,” Automan told Red sternly.

Red offered Hamish a weird sort of smile. It was hard to read on such an inhuman face beneath the stretched out mask. It just looked eerie and off-putting. Red returned to where he had started working on something over the burners.

Hamish turned his attention back to the bread so he could make sandwiches. He decided to make some for Automan in gratitude. Not that he would not have made them for him anyways. It just occurred to him that the man would need some help when he thought about showing his gratitude.

He placed some sandwiches on a solid tray to hand to the bot. He reached out to hand it over, just as Red appeared. He froze, as the vulpine creature took the tray from his hands. He could not speak as he met Red’s eyes.

“Let me help you with that,” Red bared his teeth in an attempted smile, before he turned to hand the tray to the bot.

“Red, you’re scaring him,” Automan barked, “Stop that.”

“What? I’m not allowed to help?” Red hissed.

“Go back to doing your own thing,” Automan replied. The bot adjusted its grip on the tray.

Even from his side of the kitchen, Hamish could hear Red growl. He tried not to mind it as he hurried to make more food for himself and Coyote Scout.

When he finished, he turned to get down. That was when Red suddenly appeared in his face again. His heart skipped a beat and his stomach dropped out of his body. He stared back up at those keen eyes thinking he might be in over his head, just from making sandwiches.

“I only want to help, little Decalopod,” one gloved hand patted Hamish’s face, while the other placed a small plate of stir fried vegetables in his hand. His fingertips felt somehow bony or perhaps clawed underneath the soft gloves.

He stared at the food, trying not to tremor with fear. He had not expected to be given food and he was not sure what to do with it now. He looked back up to Red to see him placing two forks in Hamish’s plates.

“You’ll need these for eating,” Red grinned, some of his sharp teeth showing broadly, “I hope you both enjoy.” With that he turned and headed back to the stove top to cook.

“Dammit Red,” Automan grumbled.

“It’s alright, I’m just…gonna go,” Hamish carefully balanced the dishes as he made his way down. He hurried to the door, trying not to look back over his shoulder.

Slowly, the bot started to follow. They were halfway to the mess hall’s exit when Automan spoke over the speaker and said, “Oh, and thank you for the food, Decalopod.”

“Uh…you’re…you’re welcome,” he said, unsure of what to make of the new nickname.

He hurried down the hall back to Coyote Scout’s room. He had worked up quite an appetite and was starting to remember it. He was sure Coyote would have a bit of an appetite too. And now he had a story to share over the food.

Hamish stuffed his mouth with the fried veggies when he finished explaining what happened. The room was silent as Coyote tried to swallow the peanut butter sandwich.

“Whoa,” Coyote whispered, “That’s pretty creepy. Then again, that guy is usually creepy. He was always really weird. Sometimes I would see him act normal with others. But like…he didn’t know I was there. Then I’d be like ‘hey I’m here’ and he’d get all weird. Ever since he became what he is now he’s just…gotten worse.”

“Wait,” Hamish swallowed his mouthful of food, “You knew him before?”

“Yea,” Coyote nodded, “Though, back then I could at least talk to him. You know…like a normal human being.”

“Did you used to be friends?” Hamish inquired.

“No no,” Coyote shook his head, “We were coworkers.”

“Ohh,” Hamish nodded, “You were on…the same base.”

“Yes, we were,” Coyote agreed, “We weren’t close or anything…it’s just that he used to be more normal…but he was always kind of creepy.”

“Why do you think so?” Hamish asked.

“Well, as for why…I guess my best guess was he disliked me? I always got the feeling he was trying to make me so uncomfortable that I would go away,” Coyote Scout explained, while licking his fingers, “He was just like that. You know?”

Hamish nodded. Red seemed very odd. Maybe he was unaware of how creepily he did behave. Then again, Coyote did say that he acted normal around other people.

“So, about the Chameleon thing,” Coyote said through a mouthful of food, “I was thinking that in case he doesn’t like plan A, my plan B will be to bend him over and do him doggy style.” Coyote had a big stupid grin on his face as he explained this.

“You want to do him bent over something? Like a table?” Hamish chuckled as he tried to imagine Chameleon in such a vulnerable position.

“Well...it’s more or less the fantasy I had for Bunny. But, if Chameleon doesn’t like the one I have for him, this one will do,” Coyote explained.

Hamish nodded slowly. He picked up a sandwich and resumed eating. He regretted cooking something more. Red had made some stir fry vegetables so quickly, and with the seasoning they were delicious. Hamish only made some sandwiches and it was the same thing Automan was probably eating.


	20. Discussing an Exchange with Chameleon

Hamish lounged on the couch next to Chameleon, grateful for the cigar. The man just kept surprising him with things. First the shirts, one of which he was wearing, and now cigars.

“So,” Chameleon pulled a cigar out of his mouth and studied it, “That’s what Coyote wants with me? He wants to be a voyeur of us doing that?”

“That is his…option A fantasy,” Hamish answered. He was glad to be done with explaining the Coyote Scout’s fantasy. Chameleon had drilled him a little too much for the details of events in turn.

Chameleon turned his head to look at him, “Do you want to do that?”

“Huh?” Hamish looked back at him, pulling the cigar from his mouth.

“Do you want to fuck me?” Chameleon asked.

Hamish flinched and he felt his body grow hot. His tentacles curled in as he tried to swallow his embarrassment. It was not as if he had not thought of the desire before. Of course he wanted to fuck Chameleon. Coyote had already branded the desire in his mind of fucking them both, together, at the same time. He did not feel like he could admit that though, that he had such strong feelings about wanting to do far more intimate things that crossed the border of Chameleon’s comfort zone.

Chameleon raised his eyebrows a little. Hamish still could not bring himself to speak. He realized that his mouth was still open. But he could not formulate words. He did not know what he could say to admit something like that gently.

“It’s a yes or a no question,” Chameleon insisted, “If he wants you to be committing the deed, you would have to be a willing participant. And I’m not willing to handle a situation in which you have been pressured to do something just for another’s pleasure.”

Hamish swallowed, “I mean…I…” Oof, he should stop thinking about how Chameleon might feel in his tentacles. They were curling up and turning red. He had to stop thinking about how Chameleon looked when he was lost in bliss, and how that may translate in the context of Coyote’s fantasy.

“Is the arousal because of the topic? Or is it because you do want to fuck me?” Chameleon inquired.

Hamish set the cigar on the ashtray. He was not necessarily done with it, but right now he needed clear air in front of his nose. He was struggling just to think. He was struggling to keep his head on straight.

“I…” Hamish’s hands began to tremble a little as it set in that what he said could harm their relationship.

Chameleon spoke calmly and slowly, “If it is just arousal because of thinking about something-”

“I’m aroused by you,” Hamish blurted.

Chameleon stared at him in silence for a few moments. Neither of them said anything. Hamish was not sure how to read the situation. He hoped that by being very clear about his arousal he would have cleared up the situation without crossing the boundaries.

“If you don’t want to do Coyote’s fantasy, he has another lined up,” Hamish explained, “A plan B if you will. It’s...it’s mostly just Coyote and you involved.”

Chameleon rubbed his thighs for a few moments. Then he rose to his feet. He put the cigar back into his mouth as he walked around the room.

“It’s not a lack of want,” Chameleon removed the cigar from his mouth. He turned on his heel to face Hamish. Standing seemed to make him more comfortable, standing higher than Hamish could even on the couch. “I assumed it was obvious to you that I am not the type of person…who…like Coyote Scout likes…well I don’t thoroughly enjoy taking as often or as much as I enjoy giving.”

“Ah,” Hamish’s face was burning as he nodded in understanding. He was not the type of man who liked taking it either.

“I make exceptions for the sake of lovers,” Chameleon professed.

“Coyote is not your lover,” Hamish reminded him.

“Correct,” Chameleon paced to the other side of the room, “That is why it seems like such a dilemma to make an exception for him.”

“You can just say no to the fantasy,” Hamish asserted, “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“To him it will be,” Chameleon made his hands busy with pouring shots of whiskey, “He will wonder why and will take to perpetuating that I have somehow grown fonder of him than I am of you.” He quickly strolled across the room to place a shot glass of whiskey into Hamish’s hand.

Chameleon raised his own glass before throwing it back. Hamish paused, looking down at the familiar stuff that made his throat long for it. He took a breath before he slung it down his throat. It made him so thirsty that he felt dizzy. He had to set the drink down before he instinctively drank it.

“So, here is my dilemma,” Chameleon said softly, “One that is easily resolved with making you my lover.”

Hamish blinked at him, “What?”

“I wish to make you my lover,” Chameleon raised his glass, “If…you want…to be.”

Hamish licked his lips as he studied Chameleon’s face. He wondered if he was truly any good with reading somebody, because Chameleon looked nervous. He looked like he might drop the glass in his hand if Hamish said the wrong thing. He looked like he was either desperate to know Hamish’s answer, or he was simply desperate for the right answer. And what was the right answer here? This could be some kind of courtesy, or it was upfront and what it literally meant.

Hamish shook himself. This was why he was straightforward about everything. This was why he was typically a blunt person. He did not like games that played with the mind. He did not like beating around the bush and trying to read whether something literally meant what it meant.

He took a deep breath and clasped his hands together, “Listen…” He could have sworn he heard the Spy’s breath catch at hearing that word. His heart started pounding hard as he realized what thin ice he might be treading here. “I want us to be blunt here. I want to know for sure here…that I understand what you want.”

Chameleon lowered his glass to chest level, “I want you and I to be lovers.”

Hamish took another deep breath to let out very slowly and carefully. It was hard not to let it out in one big huff. That was too loud and too obvious. It would look like he was having emotions that he was not.

“And what does that entail?” Hamish inquired.

Chameleon’s usually composed posture looked a little shaky. Hamish worried this subject was too much. However, he was not sure how to back out of it. After all, this was Chameleon’s suggestion in the first place. This was something he wanted.

“You and I would be…well…lovers,” Chameleon’s Adam’s apple bobbed, “We have already shared with each other. We somewhat partake of each other. If we take a step further to share a bed…it would mean a closer relationship for us.”

“What does that mean with…Coyote Scout?” Hamish asked hesitantly. He was not sure what to do. He was already very intimate with Coyote Scout, but he had the most intimate conversations with Chameleon Spy. If this was a moment to choose between them, he was not sure that he could.

“It means he would be your…well I don’t know what your relationship with him is,” Chameleon admitted, “I am not privy to your conversations as of late. I have made an effort to give privacy…a little more.”

Hamish barked a laugh, glad to have an ease to all of the tension, “I don’t believe that for a second!”

Chameleon let out an awkward chuckle, “Well, I still don’t know what you are. But you have that…however you wish. My relationship with you should not affect things with him…I think. So long as you are not already exclusive with him.”

“No,” Hamish shook his head, “I’m not sure if it’s surprising or not, but it seems nobody around here is exclusive.”

“I admit, I’m not usually one for sharing,” Chameleon offered him a little smile, “But I know your caliber is a little higher than mine. And I would not be able to satisfy you to the full extent.”

Hamish furrowed his brow, “Is that what you’re worried about? Satisfying me?”

“Not at all,” Chameleon’s tension seemed to ease as he chuckled this time. His smile looked a little more genuine to Hamish. “I have had plenty of moments satisfying you.”

Hamish smiled back at him, “Glad I don’t have to spell it out.”

Chameleon nodded, “However, I am not the kind of man who can do that every day. Coyote Scout…he has stamina and the will to do that every day.”

“Sex isn’t _that_ important to a relationship, you know,” Hamish argued. He felt like he was defeating himself at the same time, but he felt like it had to be said.

“Of course not,” Chameleon nodded again, “That is why we work so well together. But…you are also happy with Coyote. I wouldn’t keep you from somebody who makes you happy.”

“You make me happy,” Hamish offered as he realized that this conversation was focusing on the man who was not in the room.

Chameleon paused this time, giving him a smile. He was not sure if it was genuine this time. It looked fairly genuine, but his mind warned him that it may be a bit forced. He was not sure why, considering how genuine it appeared.

“I am glad,” Chameleon gave a nod, “And if I can do that, then I feel content in making us lovers. Do you want that as well?”

“Aye!” Hamish’s lips moved before he could think of the answer.

Chameleon’s smile was warm as he raised his glass again and gulped it down. He set the glass on the table and rose to his feet. He fixed Hamish with his gaze, now standing at full height, as if the recliner was no longer welcoming for him to sit.

“Now that we are lovers, I will share with you what I share with no one else,” the Spy’s tone shifted to something more serious.

Hamish was alarmed, but he nodded. He wanted to know what Chameleon had to share. However, he was wary about what it might be. It raised the hair on the back of his neck.

“I…forgive me, I am nervous,” Chameleon admitted, “At least, not since I have mastered my ability.”

Hamish reeled for a moment, blinking at the man. For a moment, Hamish wanted to ask him what he was talking about. After that moment, Chameleon’s colors started changing. He recognized the colors, though there was not the usual rainbow effect this time. This time, the colors simply shifted. Hamish tried to look closely, watching as the skin beneath Chameleon’s clothes changed.

“I suppose it would be easier to see what is happening without the mask,” Chameleon raised a hesitant hand to pull his mask from his head.

“Wait but you-” Hamish cut off as his mask came away. Skin color shifted to green. His hair was an aqua blue, almost a greenish color. His throat teased a strip of yellow that disappeared into the collar of his shirt.

Hamish stared at him, taking in the colors. It was a fantastical arrangement of colors, though unlike anything mammalian. The man looked true to chameleon fashion, complete with vibrancy in his hues.

“This is what I actually look like,” Chameleon answered.

“I don’t see why you hide it,” Hamish was surprised to see that the man’s skin was generally the same. His hair looked so soft too, he wanted to touch it.

“It’s a big secret,” Chameleon averted his gaze. That was when Hamish noticed that Chameleon’s eyes were strange, with irises that spread all the way across the eye to hide the whites. These eyes were green, almost the same green as his skin, with flecks of gold in them that made them seem almost magically vibrant.

“Big secret?” Hamish chuckled, “Anybody who has seen you have a rainbow shift has figured you have a much different set of colors, Spy.”

“No no,” Chameleon Spy shook his head, “What? No. That’s- Look.” The man turned and gestured behind his hip.

Hamish’s eyes were drawn to the thick tail trailing out behind the Chameleon Spy. He was surprised he had not seen it sooner. He was shocked he had never seen a tail on Chameleon Spy. He never even saw a hint of a tail on him. Surely there would be some sort of tell from his clothes or something that would give it away. It was rather big too, so he did not think it was that easy to hide with a simple color change.

“This…is the secret,” Chameleon’s words were hesitant.

“You hide your tail?” Hamish was still trying to wrap his head around _how_ Chameleon Spy hid his tail.

“It’s…I don’t want anyone to know,” Chameleon’s cheeks turned blue, with the center of the color becoming a darker hue.

“Okay, I won’t question it,” Hamish said. Though, he did want to know why. There were so many people here with deformities like this. Even Coyote Scout had a tail.

“I just want to be normal,” Chameleon said quietly, “Anyways, I…I am glad I can finally share this with you. It is obviously something you would figure out in a more intimate situation.”

Hamish blinked at him, “You are pretty damn clever. You probably still could have hid it.”

“No, I’ve seen you with Coyote Scout. Your tentacles have minds of their own. You would have felt around for everything and you would have realized something was there,” Chameleon explained.

“Alright, perhaps I would have found out,” Hamish shrugged reluctantly.

“So, now I feel safe…” Chameleon admitted, “I feel safe doing more with you.”

“Do you _want_ to do more with me?” Hamish inquired hesitantly.

“Yes, I do,” Chameleon nodded, “If you’re willing to help me keep it secret.”

“Ah…” Hamish pursed his lips and he touched his chin with a finger, “That’d be a problem if Scout were to voyeur.”

“Not if you are attentive not to touch my tail,” Chameleon explained.

“Right,” Hamish looked at the Spy’s tail. It was green, but along the bottom edge, he peeked some yellow color. He was curious to see more of the Spy’s skin. He was dying to know what else looked different.

“Do you think you can do that?” Chameleon inquired.

“Well, yes I can,” Hamish nodded, “It’s not like I haven’t got control of my own tentacles. I’m not some animal.”

“Good,” Chameleon smiled, “I do want to…try it before we have Coyote Scout voyeur us. I am…still a little nervous.”

“You’re nervous? This is still me,” Hamish protested, “Besides, you’re still you under all of that. I’ve sucked your dick and I know what it tastes like. Now I’m _eager_ to know what it looks like.”

Chameleon Spy awkwardly chuckled and averted his gaze. It was hard to watch his eyes moving around, the green filling much of the area that would normally be white. It seemed to turn off the normal cue for humans that showed where he was looking.

“I realize that,” Chameleon Spy carefully sat down on the couch nearby him. The tail was comfortably pushed to the side, pointed away from him. He was curious to think of how many times they had sat together like this and Chameleon had hidden an entire tail.

“I’m glad you’ve shown me this,” Hamish said, giving Chameleon a smile.

Chameleon returned a small smile and a nod, “Though, about…doing…this…” He paused to clear his throat. His Adam’s apple bobbed while his eyes looked around for the words he wanted to use. One hand tapped the tips of his fingers against his leg. “I want to take it slowly, please,” Chameleon cleared his throat again, “I’m much older than Coyote and I cannot take what he can.”

“Of course,” Hamish gestured dismissively, “I’ll go at your own pace. I’m not about to push boundaries or anything.”

Chameleon almost leaped from his seat. He grabbed their glasses and retreated to the liquor cabinet. Hamish watched how gracefully he moved with such a big tail. It narrowly avoided every obstacle with ease.

“Aye, and slow down on the liquor,” Hamish called to him.

“I just figured it would be a bit easier to take in,” Chameleon turned and strolled slowly back to the table. Standing on the other side, he bent to hand Hamish his drink. He paid less attention to the glass and more attention to how gracefully the man bent over. It was like lightning struck his mind and he was realizing for the first time how easily Chameleon bent over because of the balance of his tail.

He took the drink and set it on the table in front of him. Chameleon on the other hand gulped his down like he intended to get drunk. He was not sure he had seen Chameleon so eager to drink. In fact, he had had quite a few drinks already. Sure they drank together, but Hamish was the first to get drunk in these situations. He was always the heavier drinker, while Chameleon pretended to drink more than he actually consumed.

“Why are you drinking so much?” Hamish furrowed his brow.

“I just said,” Chameleon replied, looking at his glass of ice.

“You’ve already drank a bit,” Hamish put emphasis on his words, “You don’t drink like this. What are you nervous about? Why are you drinking like this?”

Chameleon reeled, giving him an incredulous look. He set the liquid-less glass on the table and stepped around it to sit on the couch again. Despite sitting on the same couch, he was not sitting as close to Hamish as he was before.

“I’ll be a bit easier,” Chameleon’s words had a stern tone in them.

“Take it from a drunk, that being drunk is not a good way to have sex,” Hamish felt dirty the moment the last word left his mouth. It felt like Chameleon had been dancing around anything that directly stated what they had been inferring since Hamish described Coyote’s fantasy. “The last thing I want is a drunk partner who doesn’t know his dick from his hand.”

Chameleon’s lips tightened, “I am nowhere near drunk, let alone _that_ drunk. If I want to drink before sex, I’ll do as I please.”

“I’m not telling you what to do! But you’re giving me mixed signals here!” Hamish insisted.

On the contrary, he felt that Chameleon’s signals were not so mixed. When he thought about it, he decided that all of the signals pointed to lack of want. There was no arousal and no desire to go through with this.

“All we’re doing now is talking,” Hamish decided to lighten the mood a bit, “So, we don’t have to worry about any of that now. Just…relax. Don’t go getting hammered out of nerves.”

Chameleon’s lips contorted, “You don’t want to have sex?”

“That’s not what I said,” Hamish protested.

“You said earlier that you wanted to fuck me,” Chameleon argued, “And now you are going back on that.”

Hamish frowned, “Well that _was_ before you were putting down enough liquor to turn the room upside down for ya!”

“If I want to drink, then I will drink. You, of all people should not be judgmental!” Chameleon raised his voice.

“I, of all people?” Hamish glared at the man, “You should consider your next words a bit more carefully, boyo!”

“If I want to drink to handle anal sex with the texture of your tentacles, then I will damn well drink!” Chameleon slammed a fist against the back of the couch.

Hamish’s mouth formed the word “oh” as he realized what was bothering the man. He might have mentioned the texture of Hamish’s tentacles in passing but nothing more. He never mentioned it bothering him. Nor had he mentioned any doubts about the texture being disconcerting or worrying.

He was not sure why he was so disappointed, but he was. He found himself feeling like Chameleon could have told him this sooner. He could have talked to him about this while he was sober and they were able to talk about such things without pressure. Instead he built up all of this pressure and now it was coming out heated.

Chameleon Spy took a breath and let it out slowly, “If you’re not going to drink, that is fine. I personally would like one more glass.”

Chameleon rose to his feet and walked back over to the liquor cabinet. While his back was turned, Hamish finished his own glass, gulping it down. It was a refreshing taste, but it brought no actual solace. He must have drowned himself in this stuff for a lifetime or so.

Chameleon Spy sighed as he turned around, “I just want to-”

Hamish set the glass on the table and said, “I’m going to call it a night.”

“Wait!” Chameleon exclaimed, “But I- but we- where are you going?!”

Hamish slid off the couch and headed towards the door, “I am staying in Coyote’s room tonight.” He opened the door and looked back at Chameleon’s shocked expression. His glass of liquor was still in hand, wet with condensation.

“But you-” Chameleon could not seem to finish his thought.

“This was a mistake, making business out of sex,” Hamish turned his gaze out the door, “I need to talk to Coyote. I’ll talk to you later.” He slipped out the door and quietly let it close behind him.


	21. Red, Red, Red

When Hamish arrived at Coyote Scout’s room, he was greeted with a big smile and open arms. He could not bring himself to reveal the truth to Coyote. It was too personal between himself and Chameleon. He was not about to betray the Spy’s trust.

As Hamish climbed up onto the bed beside him, Coyote Scout asked how he was and what was up. Saying nothing, Hamish wrapped his arms around the younger man. He leaned his head on Coyote’s shoulder and rested there.

Coyote remained quiet as he turned to meet Hamish’s body. He was forced to shift his arms as Coyote pulled him into his lap. Arms wrapped warmly around him, holding him tight. He felt so comfortable being held, while Coyote shifted to lay back on the bed.

He felt so much more secure. He felt like he could breathe, held tight by these arms. Coyote did not press for any information, he just held onto him. That was all Hamish needed right now.

Eventually, he felt the younger man slip away from his arms, laying him aside to rest alone on the bed. He did not mind. His body was so relaxed he did not want to move to lift his head. He just laid there and drifted off to sleep.

Hamish woke with a start to a loud banging sound outside. Startled, he gave himself a shake and rubbed his face with his hands. He must have dozed off for all the time that the Scout was out.

Coyote’s incoherent shouting came from the other side of the door. Hamish sat upright as he tried to make out what he was saying. He could not hear it clearly enough to understand the words, though he understood the intent.

He hurried from the bed and threw open the door. His eye was not sure where to go first. At first, his eye landed on the Coyote Scout, who was half trapped on top of Bunny Scout and half fighting off Red. Then he noticed the Soldierbot, struggling to restrain both Coyote and Red, which effectively pinned Bunny Scout underneath them.

“Get a hold of yourself, Red!” Automan’s voice came over the Soldierbot speaker.

Red snarled and gave a nasty noise that sounded something like a big animal mixed with a human’s voice. He bared his teeth to show his intent to bite the Soldierbot for having a hand on him. It sent an instinctive fear down Hamish’s spine, reminding him of how canine-esque the man had become from experimentation.

“Don’t make me do this!” Automan warned.

“Get the hell off of me! Get off of me!” Coyote shouted.

Bunny Scout was flailing under the group, but he did not make a sound. He just wriggled and writhed violently in attempts to escape. He was not highly successful in escaping. Failure did not stop him from trying though.

“Aye! Stop this!” Hamish raised his voice, bellowing louder than even Automan had over the speaker.

“Decalopod, stay outta this,” the Automan ordered, “Let me handle this.”

“You’re not helping! You’re weighing me down!” Coyote Scout flailed at the Soldierbot hand holding him down.

Red snapped and snarled. His golden eyes seemed keen on attack, fighting and gnashing the metal hand. It only stood to make him seem more like an animal.

“I’m not letting this continue!” Hamish jumped, using the wall with two tentacles gripped to raise himself higher. He reached out with two tentacles, quickly wrapping them around Red’s neck. Distracted by the metal, Red did not even notice the flesh wrapping around his throat to choke him. “That’s enough!” Hamish pushed off of the wall and threw his weight around to Red’s back.

Unable to withstand the momentum’s force, Red fell backwards. He gagged at the pressure on his throat as he fell with Hamish. He did not come crashing down, but was pulled away from the others, effectively turning him around.

Hamish ended up on the floor, two tentacles still wrapped around Red’s neck. He loosened his grip as he looked up into the vulpine face. He opened his mouth to chew the man out, just as something like a growl left Red’s mouth. Instinct took over and Hamish threw his arm in front of his face. Narrow jaws latched onto his arm and began to try and tear away by shaking his head side by side. Hamish used his free arm to pin the top of his face, holding on so he could not rip his flesh.

“Red! Stop!” he shouted, caught up in a moment of panic and confusion. This was supposed to be the same spy who had nabbed him. He had spoken with this man before. They had a very intelligent conversation. Now he was here, latched onto him like a vicious animal- no a monster. No animal would act like this. “Red! This isn’t you!” he tried to reach out for Red’s intellectual nature, “Come on, mate! Let go of me arm!”

Red’s breath hissed through his teeth. He seemed to be struggling through the pressure on his snout. His eyes glared down at Hamish with a lucid passion. Hamish stared back, struggling to hold his head still.

Suddenly, those golden eyes blinked at him. Gloved hands with unmistakable claws underneath touched his arm, as if to pull away from him. Hamish was hesitant to release him as he would be given plenty of opportunity to simply bite him again.

The bot came up behind Red. Hamish could not see from this angle, but he thought the bot got a hold of him in some way. It startled the giant vulpine creature, who tried to look back at it.

“You’ve crossed the line, Red,” Automan spoke over the speaker, “It’s time to go to-”

Suddenly, Red ripped his face away and leaped over Hamish. With the power of ten lions and the fear of a herd of gazelles, Red fled the scene, bounding away down the hall. Hamish was left stunned, but glad that Red had released the pressure on his teeth when he ripped his face away. At least it seemed that he had recovered some semblance of his intelligent self.

“What the fuck just happened?” Hamish whispered.

“I’ll need to suit up a Sniperbot for this one,” Automan grumbled.

“Fucking hell!” Coyote Scout barked.

“Now you’re going after him?” Bunny Scout said as he finally managed to climb out from under Coyote Scout.

“He’s over the line now,” the Soldierbot shook its head as Automan spoke, “It’ll be a bit to get the Sniperbot ready for a tranq gun. Scout, mind running to the medbay and telling medic to prep the tranquilizer?”

“You do it man!” Bunny Scout barked, “You should have put that monster down ages ago!”

“Come on man,” Coyote protested, “You don’t need to be dramatic.”

“I’m not being dramatic!” Bunny raised his voice, “You fuckers have been protecting him!”

“Nobody has been protecting Red,” Coyote Scout raised his hands in front of himself.

“Bullshit! Nobody would take him down before! Now look!” Bunny gestured to Hamish.

Hamish looked down at his arm to see the damage. It was not too bad, but it was a pretty serious dog bite. He would need to have it cleaned up and bandaged at least.

“I gotta take him to the infirmary anyways,” Coyote scooped Hamish off the floor as he spoke, “I’ll let doc know about the tranq gun.”

“Thank you kindly,” Automan said.

Coyote turned and headed towards the infirmary. Hamish could not say anything. He was just in shock at what happened. He could not believe the man had turned so feral. He was sure that for a moment intelligence had returned and Red realized what he had done. He probably also understood the warning from the Automan, and he would take the weight of that with him.

The infirmary doors were swung open and Coyote hurriedly placed him on the examination table. Hamish sighed as he rested on the table. He cradled his arm protectively, but his mind was not on his wound. His mind was starting to wander towards what might happen to Red. He wondered what it was Automan would do once he tranquilized the fox-like spy.

“Well,” the Medic came over and Hamish was almost surprised. It had been a while since he properly saw the Medic. This was probably his first visit with an actual medical problem not relating to his body’s odd functions. “This is far less damaged than Coyote made it out to be,” the Medic studied the bite pensively.

“Just a minor bite,” Hamish said dismissively, “I managed to keep him from shredding it. I think it got just to the point where he got his wits back and realized what he was doing.”

“Ack, if this had happened to-” the Medic stopped and turned to Coyote Scout, “Where is the Bunny Scout?”

“Uh…he probably went to his room? He was pretty freaked out and pissed,” Coyote explained.

“He should be here!” Medic barked, “It’s safer and he could have taken injuries. If he has, I won’t hear the end of it!”

“He’ll be fine in his room though, right?” Coyote suggested, “He’s got a lock on the door.”

Medic shook his head, “Red has crossed a line. He is probably stalking Bunny now.”

The Medic grabbed for a cleaner for his wound, “Go fetch Bunny Scout. Bring him here. Do not stop for anything. Is that clear?”

“Clear as sunshine, doc,” Coyote replied, watching as the Medic started cleaning Hamish’s wound. He winced, but Hamish was not wincing because the pain was not too bad.

“Go on then!” Medic gestured dramatically and dismissively.

Medic turned back to Hamish and made quick work of cleaning the room. Unfortunately, he did need to stitch it up, which made Hamish more uncomfortable than the cleaning had. He was just glad when the last stitch was in place.

“Here he is, doc!” Coyote called as he threw the double doors open.

“Let go of me!” Bunny protested, trying to pry Coyote’s hand off of his arm.

“Doctor’s orders,” Coyote pulled Bunny ahead of himself. He released Bunny’s arm to push him towards the Medic.

“Why the hell did you have to drag me here?!” Bunny Scout rounded on Coyote.

“Like I said,” Coyote laid his ears back and glared, “Doctor’s orders.”

“That psycho is still out in the halls, you idiot!” Bunny Scout rubbed his arm as if offended by Coyote’s touch.

“He has probably gone to his room,” the Medic walked over to Bunny Scout to bring him to the examination area. He sat on the table next to Hamish while Medic looked him over. “No bites? No scratches?”

“No,” Bunny rubbed his arm protectively, “Just a bruise from that guy dragging me here.” He pointed at Coyote Scout, who was leaning against the wall.

“Hey, I’m just following Medic’s orders here,” Coyote protested.

“Oh, you’re fine then,” Medic said dismissively.

“So, I can go now?” Bunny Scout asked.

“No no,” the Medic shook his head, “You need to stay put. You’ll be safer in here.”

“How? The doors don’t’ even lock,” Bunny Scout argued.

“You think that holing yourself up in your room alone will suit you?” the Medic scoffed, “In here we have weapons and medicine.

Bunny Scout scoffed at this, folding his arms over his chest. His ears pricked as he eyed Coyote Scout sideways. Coyote did not even notice, paying more attention to something he was trying to get out from under his nail than anything else.

“Red would know where you’re staying,” Hamish said, “He’d likely go to your room and find you anyways.”

“Or he could track me here with his nose,” Bunny slowly raised his voice.

Medic merely clicked his tongue, “You are making a big fuss out of nothing, Kind. He will not try to track you here.”

Suddenly, the double doors flung open. As he was precariously close, they slammed directly into Coyote Scout. All eyes turned to the figure in the door way.

Jaws opened wide to shout, “MEDIC!”

All eyes fell on Red, standing in the doorway with his arms spread out to hold the door. If not for the shock of his appearance, maybe somebody would have said or done something. For the moment, everyone was in shock and fell as silent as Red had. Staring at the room with shock in his eyes, Red surveyed Hamish, the Medic and finally Bunny Scout.

The panic built up to a high pitched sound that escaped the Scout’s throat. Aghast at the intruder, Bunny Scout started to tremble, at a loss for where to go. The only way out was being blocked by Red himself, so Hamish could see the difficulty in finding a way around this situation. The tension in the air was taught as everyone stared in silence.

Hamish caught movement in the corner of his eye and realized that Medic was moving slowly as he picked up a syringe gun. He was loading it, carefully putting his ammunition in place. Hamish swallowed as he turned his eye back to Red.

Panic was the only thing Hamish could see on the vulpine face. Finally, he responded to that panic, turning to flee through the doors again. Without a warning, the Medic flew forward, charging at the doors as they still swung.

“Red! Come back here!” Medic roared as he tore through the doors.

Coyote Scout, now free from the door, stepped away from the wall and rubbed his head. “Ow!” he groaned.

Bunny breathed raggedly. He clutched at his chest as he stared at the door. He looked like he might need some medical attention after all.

“I’m fine by the way,” Coyote announced, “No need to be worried all at once.”

“Sorry, Scout,” Hamish replied, “That was just…sort of a shock.”

“Yea, no kidding,” Coyote replied.

“He tracked me here,” Bunny whimpered.

“He didn’t track you here,” Hamish rolled his eye.

“He did!” Bunny protested.

“I mean, it makes sense that he was tracking Bunny,” Coyote said.

Hamish gave him a frown, “The first thing he said- or rather he shouted for the Medic. He wasn’t here looking for Bunny if he was hoping to find Medic.”

Coyote chuckled, “Good point.”

“Fuck you, jackass,” Bunny raised his middle finger to Coyote.

“Go be a dip to somebody else,” Coyote growled.

“No,” Hamish said sternly, “He’s supposed to stay here in the infirmary.”

“Well, guess who already knows where he is?” Coyote laughed.

“It’s not funny!” Bunny Scout barked.

“You’re right, you’re right,” Coyote rolled his eyes with a smile.

There were a few moments of silence before Hamish said, “I do believe he meant no harm when he came here.”

“Well sure, that’s easy for you to say, when he hasn’t been hunting you,” Bunny Scout scorned Hamish.

Hamish raised his hands, “I’m not here to say he’s not being scary. I got bit already. And to tell you the truth? It looked to me like he came to his senses…like coming out of a drug induced rage.”

“He wasn’t enraged,” Bunny protested, kicking at the floor.

“What was he then?” Coyote asked.

Bunny glared at Coyote, trying to look menacing, “You would know.”

“No, I don’t know,” Coyote shook his head and folded his arms, “Tell me. What was he?”

“I don’t know man,” Bunny rubbed his arms, “I’ve seen it happen before. It’s like they go savage.”

“They?” was Coyote’s first thought.

“Savage?” was Hamish’s first thought.

“Yea,” Bunny narrowed his eyes at Coyote, “The whole lot from _your_ base was affected.”

“Wait, you think I’m affected?” Coyote gave him a bewildered look.

“Everyone from _your_ base came with this…problem,” Bunny explained, gesturing to Coyote, “It was your base, your team…it was your guys, RED.”

Coyote folded his arms over his chest and pursed his lips in an awkward frown, “I don’t know anything about that, BLU.”

Hamish looked between the two of them, putting the pieces together, “You two used to be on separate teams working against each other, right?”

Their glares fell onto him, which was more confirmation than he needed. With this new information, it became clearer to Hamish that they were always at odds. Their dynamic was strange because this was not their nature. They had been at odds from the start. It only helped to clarify that the spy who used to be on Coyote’s team would be a thorn in Bunny Scout’s side. Though this seemed like something far more aggressive than just an old feud. Besides that, it was strange that in spite of this relationship, Coyote had some sort of fantasy about Bunny.

Hamish suppressed a shudder as he tried to reason out what they should do now. Medic was not there to order them around as he might otherwise do. Hamish would just have to take control of the situation. Otherwise, Red _might_ come back and create another problem.

“It’s time to fortify the infirmary,” Hamish said sternly, “Coyote, grab everything that’s not on wheels and use it to block the door. Bunny go grab any weapons and ammunition that Medic has stocked up in here.”

The two Scouts hesitated to glare at each other. Apparently the danger did not take precedence in their minds. They were too fascinated with their own hatred for each other to care that either of them might be in danger.

“Move! Before Red gets back!” Hamish snapped loudly. At least this got their attention, sending them into a panicked frenzy of running around the infirmary and fortifying it against the would-be intruder.


	22. Spatial Awareness

Waiting was hard to do. It was one thing to think about being posted for watch. It was another entire thing to stand guard for the door, waiting for trouble to come barreling in. It was a long while before anything came to the infirmary. Whoever was at the other side of the door started banging hard, trying to open the doors inwards towards the piles of overturned tables and stacked chairs.

The two Scouts quickly moved into positions at different sections of the infirmary. Whoever came in could not be ready for both of them. Hamish, perched up on a table, held a syringe gun ready to shoot. Both of the Scouts’ ears twitched as they watched and waited. Both of them were ready, waiting to leap into action. The anticipation was starting to grind on Hamish’s nerves.

Finally one slam on the door swung it open with a tumultuous roar of victory. The three of them stared at the small group that entered. Medic, Bird Soldier and Engiebull stepped into the infirmary with gawking faces as they surveyed the mess the Scouts had made of the place. Medic was the most aghast and disbelieving of the situation.

“Mein Gott! What have you done?” the Medic demanded.

“Well, we uh…we were just uh…you know we had to…um…” Coyote looked up to Hamish, “Hamish, you wanna take this, buddy?”

Hamish shrugged at Medic, “We had to fortify the infirmary.”

Medic looked around, “You’ve made a mess! My work! My infirmary! What have you done?!” It was more of a declaration than a question anymore. He stomped his feet and roared incessantly in German, probably about how horrified he was about the mess.

Bird Soldier looked around, then up at Hamish. Hamish rubbed the back of his neck. This felt like a very awkward situation. Though, he knew that he was not at fault for anything. This had all fallen to necessity.

“My infirmary…” the Medic whined.

“Where is Red?” Bunny Scout asked, “What happened with him?”

“Red has been secured,” Medic said, as he set a table upright.

“Secured?” Bunny sounded apprehensive.

“Yes, secured,” Medic affirmed with a nod, “Just like the others.”

“The others?” Hamish asked.

Medic’s face suddenly turned up to look at him. He was silent for a few moments, before he said, “It’s best not to talk about such things. You need to come down from there.”

Hamish took a breath before he started his descent. He watched as Medic quickly busied himself around the room to straighten everything out. His eyes fell on Bunny Scout, who made his way out of the room. His ears sagged partway, and he looked very sluggish and tired. No doubt the stress had already gotten to him.

He was surprised when a shoe bumped his tentacle. He looked up to see Coyote looking down at him. “Are you ready to go?” the Scout asked. Hamish sighed and nodded.

Coyote scooped him up, just as the Medic came to confront them. He squared up his shoulders, looking at the two of them with scorching blue eyes. The ferocity of his gaze was only matched by the muscular build of his body. He could easily take the two of them on as they were, or at least Hamish figured as much. That included Hamish’s handicap with his lower body and Coyote’s lack of strength in his upper body. Then again, Coyote had been carrying him around fairly effortlessly, so he probably had a decent amount of strength to start out with.

“You two!” Medic pointed them out, “Brooms! Now!”

“You expect me to be able to sweep, doc?” Hamish inquired.

Medic glared at him, “I expect you to clean up your mess!”

“Alright,” he climbed down off of Coyote and straightened up a table, “I’ll help with putting things back the way they were.”

It took twice as long to straighten up the place than it had to make a mess of it. Hamish suspected it was because the Medic was being picky about where everything goes and over using their time by having them clean it beyond how it was when Medic left.

When they had it cleaned up and set to right, Coyote scooped Hamish up to take him back to his room. He was tired and grateful to be picked up. It would have been frustrating to try and keep up with Coyote on his own tentacles.

They were both surprised when Medic cut them off, “Ah ah ah. Just a moment. I have one more task for you.” His finger pointed directly into Hamish’s face.

Hamish sighed, “What? What is it?”

Coyote brought him to one of the tables to wait while the doctor went to another room. When Medic returned, he had a weird set of a wooden puzzle. It looked like a children’s game with bright colors and shapes.

“Doc,” Hamish grumbled, “I am not a baby.”

“No, but I am curious as to how much you could feasibly do with your tentacles alone,” the Medic set up the set on a table opposite from Hamish. He tossed a piece of cloth, something like a bandana to Coyote Scout. “Put this over his eyes. Make sure he cannot see.”

“Or…” Hamish moved his eye patch to cover his eye, “I just do this, because I only have _one_ eye.”

“Fine,” he heard the Medic say, “Now Scout, bring him over here.”

Hamish put his trust in the Scout for carrying him over to the other table. He reached out to feel with his hands, which got him smacked.

“Tentacles only,” Medic scorned, “No hands.”

“What? What the hell kind of test is this?” Hamish demanded.

“One where you don’t use your hands or eyes to figure out the puzzle,” the Medic explained.

“That’s not helpful,” Hamish frowned.

“It’ll help me see what your intelligence is in coordination with your tentacles,” the Medic explained.

Hamish felt his face flush at the piercing jab at his pride. Testing his intelligence? As if!

“This just sounds like a coordination test. That has nothing to do with intelligence,” Hamish argued.

“On the contrary, my friend,” the Medic argued, “I firmly believe that there is a part of our intelligence that we develop in childhood. It can be affected by biological factors, _but_ the important thing is developing the understanding of space, touch, texture, shape…things we take for granted that our eyes do.”

Hamish sighed, “I am missing an eye doc, I don’t have to be reminded about taking eyes for granted.”

“Just…play along with the test,” the Medic insisted.

Hamish sighed as he put his hands behind his back. He reached out with his tentacles, feeling for the blocks of wood. He felt more anxious reaching blindly with his tentacles. They were sensitive, more so than his hands. He did not like the thought of accidentally getting pinched on something.

He let out a breath he had not known he was holding when his tentacles found a block of wood. He felt the roughness of the wood, turning it in his tentacles. It was mostly sanded down, so it did not give him any splinters.

“Well?” Medic pressed.

“I’m thinking,” Hamish grumbled, “Don’t rush me. This wood isn’t pleasant to the touch.”

“It’s not?” Medic sounded surprise.

“Don’t rush him, doc. It’s not like he blindly messed with your wooden blocks every day,” Coyote protested.

Hamish was thankful but said nothing. He focused his energy on finding the other blocks. One by one he picked them up to feel their shapes. He began to find the blocks with holes with shapes. The holes were harder to determine the shape of than the actual blocks. It felt like the logic of these holes was broken.

“Ack!” unable to fit a block into a hole, Hamish threw the pieces down, “These holes are all wrong!”

Medic chuckled as Hamish pulled his eye patch away. He realized with stark embarrassment that he had been trying to fit a square shape into a triangular hole.

Hamish sighed, “You have to be kidding me.”

The more that Medic chuckled, the more it burned at Hamish. He could barely remember why he even tolerated this man. He liked him at some point, didn’t he?

“Doc, it ain’t his fault,” Coyote said defiantly, “You got a bunch of blocks he’s never used before. And you just expect him to be able to use them with no eye? I mean, come on. That’s more than a little unfair. You didn’t even give him a chance to practice with the blocks.”

The Medic fell silent as he gave the Coyote Scout a look, “I expected no such thing.”

“That’s basically what you had expected,” Coyote gestured to Hamish.

“I did not expect him to be able to do anything in particular,” Medic argued, “I was testing to see _if he could_. I don’t have any evidence to expect such a thing. Now I see that the coordination between his mind and his tentacles his far too disconnected.”

“Nae! That’s not fair, doc!” Hamish protested.

“What? You couldn’t do this,” Medic gestured to the blocks, “You weren’t able to properly identify the shapes and find the placements for the blocks with just your tentacles.”

“Doc,” Hamish rubbed a hand over his face, “I couldn’t have done that with just my hands!”

“Oh,” the Medic frowned at the blocks, “Well it seems there was an unforeseen factor of general spatial intelligence.”

Hamish took a deep breath. Every part of him wanted to give a strong right hook to Medic’s face. Maybe if he aimed just right and got him to move closer, he could slam one under his jaw that would send him reeling.

“Alright, we’re going to go,” Coyote hooked his arms under Hamish’s armpits to pull him to the edge. He hoisted Hamish off of the table, and Hamish finally cooperated to help himself into Coyote’s grasp.

“We should try this again tomorrow,” the Medic said, “Perhaps you can put a little more focus.”

Hamish bit into the inside lip, holding back a few curses. Coyote turned and headed for the door. He did not address Medic as he pushed through the doors into the hall. His feet were stomping as he headed towards his room.


	23. I Cannot With You Right Now

Hamish was silent as Coyote carried him back to the bedroom. He remained quiet as Coyote set him on the desk chair. He watched curiously as Coyote turned and grabbed a pillow from the bed, immediately screaming into it.

“Coyote?” he finally spoke up, “Are you alright?”

“Medic was just being such a dick!” Coyote said, pinning his ears back.

“Aye,” Hamish nodded, “I know he was. But let’s just forget that.”

Coyote frowned at him. His ear twitched in an odd way. It made Hamish’s cheeks grow flush.

“Now don’t start pitying me,” Hamish shook a finger at Coyote.

“I’m not pitying you!” Coyote protested, “It’s just…that wasn’t fair.” Coyote folded his arms over his chest with a sigh. “I like Medic and all, but lately he’s been such a dick.”

“All men can be dicks sometimes,” Hamish offered. This was not the first nor the last person to be outright rude to him.

“Medic should be the most understanding of anybody,” Coyote insisted, “He usually is! But this is…this was just being an asshole.”

“I understand…you’re upset,” Hamish relented, “But let’s not talk about it anymore.”

“You gotta be at least a little bit angry!” Coyote Scout argued.

“I am,” Hamish took a deep breath. His face and body felt heated, but he did not let his hands clench. “But I don’t want to talk about it.”

Coyote was silent for a moment, staring at Hamish. His ears were alert, perked at him, as if he might say something more.

“I don’t want to talk about that. I don’t want to talk about Medic. I want to forget about the things he said and-” he was cut off by a gentle knock at the door.

Coyote Scout’s ears laid back as he turned to the door. He stomped over, a bit louder than necessary. He opened the door, a bit more aggressive than necessary. He looked out, but Hamish could not see his expression from this angle.

He could only hear Coyote’s exclamation of, “What? What are you doing here?”

He could not hear the voice on the other side of the door clearly. It was very soft. It was almost delicate in a sense. He wondered if it was anybody he knew, seeing as most everybody he had met had some loud way of speaking. Except for Bird Soldier, he just had a loud way of screeching.

Coyote’s head turned, “It’s for you.” He swung the door wide to reveal the visitor.

Hamish was surprised to see Chameleon Spy on the other side of the door. Despite his colors hiding the secrets he showed to Hamish, he looked nothing like himself. His shoulders were hunched and he was rubbing his arm. His eyes stayed away from contact with others. His posture seemed oddly uncharacteristic for him.

The worst was how uncharacteristically weak and soft his voice was. It was cracked with wear and exhaustion. It trembled with emotion.

“Hamish, may I…have a word with you?” Chameleon asked in that too soft voice.

“What the hell man? You gonna cry?” Coyote spat irritably.

“Coyote, shut up,” Hamish climbed down from the bed and headed to the door.

“What? Are you mad at me?” Coyote exclaimed.

“No,” Hamish turned to him when he reached the door, “Just stay here. I need to talk with him alone.”

“Fine,” Coyote folded his arms and huffed.

The door closed behind Hamish as he stepped out. He looked to Chameleon, who was avoiding his gaze. The way he held himself looked agonizingly subdued.

“This demeanor doesn’t suit you,” Hamish commented.

Chameleon turned his head away. He did not say a thing. There was no greeting nor explanation. He just stood there, looking slumped over and dejected.

“Let’s go to your room,” Hamish sighed, “We can talk if that’s what you’re here for.”

He was not used to this kind of walk to Chameleon’s room. Usually in the Spy’s company, there would be discussion. The man was always full of wit…always… Now was different, as the dejected man walking along at Hamish’s pace kept his mouth sealed shut. Hamish wondered if he ever planned on saying anything.

“It’s awfully quiet in the halls today,” Hamish commented, trying to fill the silence.

Nothing replied to him. There was nothing but silence in the halls. Even Chameleon’s footsteps were quiet.

When they arrived at the door, Hamish sighed. He waited as Chameleon opened up the room to admit him. They stepped in to find more silence. Chameleon said nothing as they went to the seats. Hamish took his usual spot on the couch and Chameleon surprisingly sat near him.

When he still said nothing, Hamish said, “Are you going to speak or not? What did you want me here for?”

Chameleon took a breath, opening his mouth to speak. No words came forth and he let out the breath in a sigh. He turned his eyes away again, sinking back into that dejected look.

“What was the point of coming to me, if you aren’t going to talk?” Hamish asked.

Finally, Chameleon said, “I haven’t decided what would be the best thing to say now. I think you should reconsider your position. I think that there has been some sort of misunderstanding about the exchange.”

Hamish’s blood boiled over. It felt as if steam would rise from his belly to his mouth. He could not speak, lest he let out a fiery rant built on rage.

“I think we would both enjoy doing that. And I’d like to show you,” Chameleon explained.

“You come to me like this and your proposition is sex?!” Hamish could not hold it back anymore.

Silence hit the room again, but finally Chameleon was looking at him. He said nothing for a long time, just staring at Hamish.

“What would you have me say?” Chameleon inquired.

Hamish ran his hands over his face, “No.”

“No?” Chameleon questioned.

“No, I’m saying no,” Hamish looked up at Chameleon with the corners of his lips pulled down.

Chameleon blinked at him. His eyes were slightly widened, as if this surprised him. He did not even have anything to say about it. He just continued staring at him as if he had never seen such a marvel with ten tentacles before.

“You hurt me raw,” Hamish growled, “Now you bring me back here to proposition me? What the hell!”

“Hurt you! How do you think I felt?! I bore my soul to you! And you ran out!” Chameleon’s voice seemed to regain its strength, all of that dejected demeanor forgotten, “You just…rejected me?!”

“I left because you-” he could not bring himself to say it.

It was hard to describe how Chameleon’s simple words had driven into him. He had not even been aware of this feeling until now. Until now, his only anger had been at Medic. Now, he was unsure of how he even felt about Chameleon after finding that his body made him uncomfortable.

“I bore my soul to you and you just left. And _you_ feel hurt?” Chameleon was halfway out of his seat, gesturing to himself with wide eyes of horror that Hamish would even suggest a reversal of roles.

“I saw your vulnerability,” his voice got choked over a sob, “You chose to show me that and I did my best to respect it. I loved it.” Hot tears rolled down his cheek and he had to dry his eye again. “I don’t get to choose!” He took in a harsh shuddering breath.

There was silence again. He tried to focus entirely on breathing. It was hard to hold back the gasping sob that wanted to come forth. He practically bit down into his arm as he tried to choke it back.

“You just left!” Chameleon barked out.

Hamish ran his hands over his face, rubbing his eye in the process. He could not believe he felt as though he was talking to a wall. With the Chameleon Spy of all people, he had hit a wall in communication. He was amazed that it had come to this point, where Chameleon’s self-absorption would create a barrier in communication for them.

“I can’t do this,” Hamish climbed off the couch.

“Where are you going? You’re just going to leave again?!” Chameleon’s voice cracked weakly.

“Talk to me when your head’s not shoved up your arse!” Hamish let out some of the heat that boiled in his belly. It felt good to shout, and it felt good to slam the door from the outside. He made his way down the hall, but he did not get far before the door opened again.

He heard Chameleon’s footsteps coming as the man ran out in front of him to stop in his way, “Where are you going?”

“Anywhere but here!” he could not stand that more tears were rolling down his own face, “I can’t talk to you right now!”

“Don’t be such a child!” Chameleon exclaimed, “I’m giving this my all, and you’re-” Chameleon’s eyes glanced up and he quickly did a double take. He gasped in surprise as his face turned a warmer color.

Hamish turned around to see a soldierbot standing stock still nearby. Confusing questions interlocked in Hamish’s mind as he tried to recall why he wouldn’t have heard the bot’s footsteps. The things were always so loud.

“Automan, what are you doing?” Chameleon asked carefully.

The bot clicked and the Automan’s voice came over the speaker, “You’re always complaining about noise. So I navigate the bots slower here. You two came barging out, so I put it on hold. The hell do you think?”

“We’re in the middle of something,” Chameleon Spy glared, “And you’re interrupting.”

“Not my fault,” the Automan replied curtly.

“He’s not interrupting,” Hamish turned around and headed to the bot, “You’re the only one trying to start something.”

“Hamish?” Chameleon called out weakly.

“You figure out…whatever this is that you need to figure out,” Hamish demanded, “I can’t deal with it right now.”

“You’re just going to leave?” Chameleon asked.

Hamish grabbed the bot’s arm and hoisted himself up. He grunted under the strain, as his tentacles worked their way up the back of the bot to secure himself. He finally looked at Chameleon and nodded.

“I’m not sure what you want from me…what you expect from me…” Hamish said. He kind of did understand what Chameleon expected of him. He expected him to just ignore what was said and be fine with going forward with things as they were. “I need some time with you…not in my face.”

“What in Sam Hill are you doing?” the Automan’s voice crackled over the feed from the bot.

“Please just walk,” Hamish held onto the bot’s shoulders with his arms, “Your bot’s faster than me.”

After a while of just riding on this bot’s jagged gait, he decided that he was tired of riding it. He patted the thing’s shoulder loudly, “Can ye halt so I can get off?”

There was no response, as the bot kept walking. Its big gait was loud, each step pounding against the floor. He tried to get a better look at the bot, but he could not see the bot clearly. He wondered if the Automan was ignoring him willfully or if something else was going on.

He knocked on the bot’s head, “Hello?”

There was still no response from Automan. There was just the regular sounds that came from the soldierbot. Things like “beep boop” and “maggot” were all it shouted.

He sighed and waited. He waited for so long. The boring trudge just kept moving forward. On and on it kept on marching.

At some point, he wondered what the point of the bot was. There was nothing here. There was nothing for the soldierbot to do. Even if there had been something for the bot to do, Hamish was not sure if the bot so much helped as much as it harmed a situation.

His train of thought cut off as the thing turned off of its route and stepped into a room. He pressed his body closed to the bot, hugging it from behind as he pressed his chest into its cold exterior. He peered over its shoulder as he marched between a few rows of unused bots.

Curiosity drew him as he slipped down to the bot’s feet. He was immediately glad he did, as the bot turned and stepped back into a wall. It was immediately clamped by machinery that locked it into place. Had he remained where he was, he would have been crushed by metal and wall.

When the bot shut down, he turned his curiosity to the rest of the bots in the room. Most of these automatons were just soldierbots, but a few of them were different. Rusting and covered in a thin layer of dust, these automatons were all beginning to show their age. A few of them were turned inside out, with parts such as wires falling out of them.

“Must be the man’s workshop,” he mumbled as he crawled along the floor. A disgusting feeling crept up his spine as his tentacles reminded him of just how dirty the floor was. It felt dirtier than the floor outside. “Could use a good scrub though.”

He made his way down the rows of bots. They were all placed in labeled positions, each one with a number and identifier. Probably one of the most curious was a demobot. He was surprised to see it, but when he did, he was a little glad. He looked up at the massive thing and wondered if he looked like this once. Broad shouldered and thick fingered, it held itself tall and proud.

“What the hell?” a voice frightened him.

He turned to look, but could not see the person the voice came from. It seemed to be coming from just beyond the last set of bots. Slowly, he made his way towards the last set of bots to find a doorway. It was just an open frame with no door to lock it with.

“The hell are you doing here?” he could hear the voice clearer than ever. The man was here in this room.

He proceeded with caution, studying the area carefully. The room was dimly lit with a worn tile floor. Along one wall was a door with shelving full of books beside it. He recognized a few titles from what the doctor had. There were more titles that he had not seen before, ranging from physics to zoology. The opposite wall held a lamp with various pictures on the wall. If he could take a guess, he would estimate that these were friends and loved ones that the occupant cared about.

“Goddammit!” the voice brought his attention to the center piece of the room.

The room’s center was taken up by a raised bed. The lower area, beneath the mattress was taken up with cupboard space, made useful for taking up so much space in the room. He could not see the person on the bed clearly. The closer he got the more he could see, and he could see that the mattress was raised from one side, holding the occupant in a sitting position.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” this time the voice was clear and he recognized it.

“Automan?” he asked, as he carefully hoisted himself off the floor to look over the bed. The sides of the bed had railings that he could grasp onto for support, revealing its medical stature. “You’re Automan?”

From here he could see the obscured side of the room, which was mostly counter and table space. There was a machine behind the table space, made up of various arms that currently stayed still. Their claws were terrifying in appearance, so Hamish was glad that they did not move.

“Answer my damn question!” the Texan accent was crisply clear as the man barked.

Hamish looked at the bedridden man and was more confused than anything. He was not in the slightest altered by anything. There was no metal on his body, with no wires hanging out. He had no animalistic parts. No evidence of having been experimented on. The only thing clearly out of place were his appendages, or rather his lack thereof.

“You didn’t stop the bot, and my only option was to wait for it to slow down,” Hamish pointed towards the door he came through, “It brought me here.”

“Dammit,” the man mumbled. He wriggled, clearly trying to change his position in a way that required arms.

“So, you’re the man behind the bots?” he leaned his elbows on the railing.

The man’s face tightened, “And you’re the man trespassing on my privacy.”

“I’m not the one who drives those things,” Hamish protested.

The man swallowed, “I wasn’t driving it. It’s set to return for a recharge after its rounds.”

“Well, you were aware it was giving me a ride,” Hamish argued.

“Dammit,” Automan muttered under his breath.

“It’s nice to finally meet you in person,” Hamish said.

Automan straightened his head to glare up at the ceiling, “Not really.”

“Come on, lad,” Hamish reached out to gently pat his shoulder, “It can’t be so bad meeting me in person.”

Automan looked at him sideways, with his brows furrowed, “It’s not like that.”

“What’s it like then?” Hamish asked, slightly amused.

Automan sighed, “Listen, right now’s not a good time.”

“Not a good time?” Hamish took a moment to look around.

The countertop had tools for engineering, but the bed itself looked like it was equipped for a permanent resident. It made sense with his lack of arms or legs to be trapped to a bed. Everything was set up for the fact that he could not get out of bed and take care of himself. The man was expected to live his life in this bed.

“I’d rather not have to explain,” Automan said, “But right now’s not a good time.”

“You really didn’t want to meet me in person, did you?” Hamish was a little disappointed, after starting something like a friendship over sandwiches.

“No!” Automan’s face became slightly rouge, “It’s just…now’s not a good time. Please just give me privacy. We can meet another time.”

“Oh,” Hamish accepted this, but was not sure how he could determine a decent time, “When would be a good time?”

“I don’t know,” Automan’s face was very red, “Uh…I’ll send a bot to you.”

“Alright then,” Hamish agreed.

“I’ll make it the Spybot,” Automan added.

“Oh…” Hamish had not seen a Spybot on base before. He wondered why Automan would keep the devious thing around. “Alright then.”


	24. Dog, Just a Dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: mention bits of cannibalistic nature
> 
> Tissue Warning: heartbreak and comfort

Hamish found himself in the kitchen. It felt like the first time he had found both the kitchen and mess hall completely empty of people before the kitchen door was locked. He decided to make use of the undisturbed quiet as he began preparing a decent meal. He did not need another round of sandwiches.

He was mixing more ingredients into a skillet when he heard the door behind him. He listened, but he did not turn his head. It was not the loud metallic feet of a Soldierbot so he knew it was not Automan. It was a clipped sound, like boots, so it was not the Coyote Scout. Maybe it was the Chameleon Spy coming to apologize to him.

He did not address the newcomer, assuming that if it was indeed the Chameleon Spy, then it would be up to him to apologize or otherwise engage him in conversation. He was not exactly interested in a conversation, not until the Spy apologized.

“I didn’t know you could cook,” the Medic’s voice shocked him. It ran down his back like a bucket of ice water. “It smells delicious!”

His head whipped around to the man, who was fishing out some sandwich ingredients. His bare hands moved busily to make a sandwich. He had a tired look about him, with his tie hanging loosely around his shoulders and a button undone at the top of his shirt.

“It…occurs to me that I have not spoken to you outside of the infirmary,” the Medic hummed, “The only times we really speak is when you come to the infirmary or when I call you there.”

“Ah,well…” he flinched in pain. He yelped and whipped his head around as he pulled away from the skillet. He grabbed the harmed tentacle, studying the now reddened burn spot on it. The whole tentacle was now throbbing with pain. “Ouch,” he hissed.

“Well, it seems you are accident prone after all,” Medic suddenly appeared beside him, moving the skillet to another burner to turn that burner off.

“Just a moment of not paying attention,” he pushed past the Medic to reach the sink where he could run cold water over the tentacle.

“This is what I was talking about before,” Medic stated.

“What’s that?” Hamish looked at the man, who was watching him like there was something interesting about him. He wanted to pull the collar button of his shirt forward and close it, just to feel a little more protected.

“There does not seem to be as much brain activity for your tentacles as there would be for an octopus,” the Medic explained, “Thus your ability to navigate with them without using your eyes is poor.”

Hamish turned back to the sink. Of course the Medic was talking about his experiment. Of course the man was stuck on his work. This could not be just a social call in any sense.

He rolled his eyes and said, “Ooh, I must be incapable of doing anything then, if I don’t have the brain of a fucking octopus!”

He heard a sharp inhale, but he did not care. He was fed up with Medic’s behavior. He was not an animal and he would not be treated like one. At least, not without a tussle in the dirt he would not. If he was to be called a dog, then he would show them how much of a dog he could be.

He returned to his place at the stove top and turned on the burner. He took his skillet and returned it to the burner to cook. He could still feel the Medic’s eyes on him, watching and studying him. Yet the man did not say a word. He just continued staring while Hamish finished cooking his meal.

Hamish said nothing to him as he grabbed a plate to empty the skillet onto. He brought the hot thing to the sink and let the water run over it. Hot steam rose up in a hurry, with the sizzling of the extreme heat meeting the cool water.

“I didn’t say that,” Medic said after too long of not saying anything.

Hamish sighed and continued preparing his meal. He wanted to bring some bread, and he decided to put butter on the bread. He made extras, knowing it was likely that Coyote Scout would want some. Where else would he go? He might as well return to the Coyote Scout’s room. He was not willing to go to Chameleon Spy and he was not sure about his terms with Automan.

Though, some part of his mind edged him towards Automan. The man wanted his privacy and he would respect that. Yet at the same time, he wished to reach out to him. He wished to let him feel like there was somebody willing to help.

He climbed down from the counter with his plate of food. He was surprised when the Medic bent down to him. He flinched back, unused to others bending down towards him like this.

“You tend to use them more as legs,” the Medic gestured to his tentacles, “Maybe that is why. You think of them as legs and so you haven’t opened up their potential.”

He curled his tentacles up beneath himself. He was appalled to see that the Medic’s primary concern was still his studies. He wanted to yell at the man. He wanted to push him hard and tell him off for being inconsiderate like this.

He was not at a height where he could easily shove Medic. The man was too tall. He was not in any position to start yelling and shouting. Besides that, he did not want to start a fight, he wanted to eat his food and get some sleep.

“You’re not even going to say anything?” Medic demanded as Hamish approached the door.

“No!” he barked, before throwing the door open.

Coyote Scout was thankful for the food, after having run so many laps that he seemed to keep exaggerating the number each time he told Hamish. He smelled like he had not washed in days. He decided to wait until Coyote had gotten his fill to bring up the topic of showers. He doubted the man could smell himself.

“So,” Coyote licked his lips as he stuffed his mouth with food, “Are you doing okay?”

“Okay?” Hamish repeated the word with a bit of confusion. His hackles rose in alarm at suddenly being asked if he was alright.

“Yea,” Coyote set his plate aside, “You seemed a little upset earlier. I thought maybe somebody upset you earlier. Or…maybe it was about the things Medic said?”

Hamish sighed as he turned his gaze to his food, “It’s a lot of things…right now.”

Hamish had no idea what he was going to do. He did not know what to do about anybody right now. He was supposed to be meeting Automan for some secret meeting. Medic expected to see him tomorrow to have him try working with stupid children’s blocks. And Chameleon Spy was ignoring his feelings.

He sighed again and tilted his head back. He was surprisingly greeted by the girl poster Scout had posted over his bed. He grimaced and looked away from it.

“Lots of guys around here are assholes,” Coyote explained. The tone in his voice professed the idea that Coyote thought he was delivering some words of wisdom. “If you want to get by, you have to stay away from the assholes or put up with them.”

“Yea, I get it,” Hamish sighed.

“I miss the guys from my old team,” Coyote set the plate of food on his desk and laid back on the bed.

“You do?” Hamish yawned, “It must have been hard being separated from them and coming here.”

“That’s not what happened,” Coyote propped himself up on an elbow to look at Hamish.

Hamish turned his head to look at him, “What happened then?”

“We all kind of got brought here,” Coyote explained, “I just haven’t seen most of the guys in a long time. You know, aside from Red, I don’t think I’ve seen the others around the base. It’s like they just disappeared.”

“Wait, your team was here with you?” Hamish sat up to look at the other man.

“Yea,” Coyote nodded. His ears laid back and he looked down at the comforter. His face tightened, as if he was trying to focus on something very sternly. “Most of them were experimented on at around the same time. I was just the…beta test. They became like really different. Not like me, I’m still as cool as I ever was.”

Hamish listened to Coyote talk with his eyes on the younger man. He was not sure he had thought about discussing this topic with him. In hindsight, they probably should have discussed these things some time ago. Though, he was not sure why they would have, since it never naturally came into the conversation before this. He wondered if Coyote would have told him if he had simply asked about it.

“I haven’t seen Red since the incident with Bunny,” Coyote went on without missing a beat, “I’ll bet he’s just isolating himself in his room though. He tends to do that a lot. He always was a loner. But before…he was the kind of loner who put his nose into your business. Like he liked knowing everything about you. I am pretty sure he stole my stuff on occasion. I never had the evidence to call him out on it, of course. So telling the guys was less than helpful.”

“Wait a moment,” Hamish raised a hand, “Red was on your team?”

“Yea,” Coyote nodded, “He was my team’s Spy. He was really good at what he did. You know better than the BLU Spy. I think if the BLU Spy had been better at his job, things wouldn’t have gone the way they did. Well, I guess that’s just bad luck for you. It’s kind of sad in hindsight, but like-”

“Scout,” Hamish interrupted, “What happened to the BLU Spy?”

Coyote Scout’s body grew taught. His ears stood alert and he sucked in his breath. He met Hamish’s gaze but was silent for too long. It was awkward and strange. He was not sure Coyote Scout had ever shut down like this.

“Scout?” he pressed with a small wince.

“It’s um…it’s just that…” Coyote’s teeth dug into his lip.

“Yes?” Hamish nodded, pressing for him to continue.

“It’s hard to um…it’s hard to tell you,” Coyote Scout’s ears laid back.

“Why? You can tell me anything, can’t you?” Hamish asked.

“Yea, but-” he saw the younger man swallow hard. It was very obvious, especially as he averted his eyes.

“Coyote,” he reached out to touch the other man’s shoulder, “It’s me. It’s Hamish. You can tell me anything. No judgment.”

“Right,” Coyote Scout nodded and licked his lip, “Right.”

“And if it’s really too hard to tell me, just say so,” Hamish rubbed the Scout’s shoulder, “I won’t judge you or anything.”

“It’s just that…” Coyote looked at the bedding beneath him with his ears pressed back against his head. Hamish continued rubbing the younger man’s shoulder, worried that he might burst into tears. “I…I could use a drink,” Coyote professed.

Hamish sighed and continued rubbing the shoulder, “Me too. Unfortunately this place is dry as dog bones.” He decided to leave out the fact that Chameleon had drinks. He was in no mood to ask the man for anything, let alone go to him for a drink on behalf of Coyote.

“Yea,” Coyote nodded, “It’s just…thinking about what happened…at the time I think I was in shock. I even laughed it off a little. But like…holy shit…”

Coyote took the hand from his shoulder. Just as Hamish was about to pull away, Coyote set his hand on top of his head. Hamish looked at him a moment, considering what it meant. He decided to resume rubbing, gently massaging the top of Coyote’s head.

“It was…well, Heavy was the first to go. Like, it was crazy. He was still kind of himself, but then like…he went nuts. You know? Oh right, you don’t know. So, like what happened was he went berserk and tore the BLU Spy to shreds. I don’t think BLU Spy really had a chance. And the really sick part is…he wasn’t…he…he wasn’t dead.”

“He wasn’t dead?” Hamish had seen plenty of crazy things on the battlefield. He had experienced many of them first hand. Being in a state reaching death was not uncommon on the battlefield, torn to shreds or torn in half while still holding onto life.

“No,” Coyote shook his head, his ear twitching when Hamish’s thumb tickled the hair near it, “He was still alive when Heavy started…eating him.”

“Eating him?!” Hamish put his hand to his mouth as he felt a wave of nausea.

“Yea,” Coyote Scout nodded, “He went…he went crazy.”

“No kidding,” Hamish’s words were muffled behind his hand.

“I think that’s what finally tipped Medic off that he had lost control of the situation. It was like…he couldn’t be convinced of anything. Then all of a sudden, it was like everything was wrong and he could not fix any of it. He could not even help anybody. BLU Spy was just…gone…just like that,” Coyote Scout explained.

“Are you okay?” Hamish asked.

“Yea, I’m fine!” Coyote assured him, turning those baby blues up to Hamish’s gaze, “They never turned that crazy on me. Like, they just sort of know, even when they’re crazy. But…Medic couldn’t handle it so he-”

“Wait…Medic? Our Medic?” Hamish asked, “The Medic here?”

“No no,” Coyote Scout shook his head again, “I’m sure you never met him. He was the guy who experimented on us though. He was trying to make our team great and stuff. And it was all cool at first. Like, I got these ears and tail. And it was like…it made some things fun. But then the other guys got really aggressive when they were experimented on. And then the Medic just jumped over the lines and um…he experimented on the BLUs.”

“You…it…it was cool at first?” Hamish asked, confused about what Coyote was explaining.

“Well yea! Doc was going to make us better mercenaries. Well, I mean for me there was other reasons. But I like…I was like his beta test. Then he got to the other guys and made them super strong and buff and shit,” Coyote Scout explained.

“You were okay with being an experiment?” Hamish asked, hesitantly.

“Well, yea,” Coyote shrugged sheepishly, “I mean…back then…he asked. He was kind of hesitant about it. Like he was not sure I would be okay with it. And I said yes, cause I knew how much it meant to him. And I got to pick what I was going to be like. And I decided that it would be the fastest canine there is! A coyote!”

“Scout, coyotes aren’t the-” Hamish cut off as he saw the puzzled look on Scout’s face. He was not sure he should finish telling him. He could not be the one to break such news to him about canines. “Never mind. You were saying?”

Coyote Scout sighed, “It was our little thing at first. You know? It was between me and him.” There was so much disappointment in Coyote’s tone that Hamish wanted to hug him. “He didn’t like…make it that way with the other guys, so I guess it wasn’t all that bad. I was special, you know?”

“You were special?” Hamish was not sure how to interpret that line.

“Yea,” Coyote Scout scooted closer to him to nuzzle his shoulder, seeking affection. Hamish slipped his arms around him, pulling him into his embrace. “Before all of this, him and I were close. We used to do everything together. And then…we weren’t close anymore. I was just his dog.”

Hamish held him tight as he listened to the telltale sobs. The body he held was shivering in waves. Each wave crashed down in a weeping moan.

“He just…” Coyote tried to catch his breath while still talking, “He just forgot about me. He forgot about us. He forgot that I’m not just some dog, I’m Luther.” Coyote sniffled as he pressed his face to Hamish’s shirt. “Sorry, I’m making a mess of your new shirt.”

“Don’t be,” Hamish gently cupped Coyote Scout’s head, protectively keeping him in place, “Just cry it out. It’ll be okay.”

Coyote Scout nodded wordlessly as he buried his face against Hamish’s shirt. Hamish simply held onto him. He wished he could be more help than this, but this was all he could offer. It had to hurt to not just be here alone, but to be abandoned and forgotten by somebody he loved.


	25. When Medic Learns

A soft rapping came at the door. Hamish raised his head, a little sleepy and bewildered. He carefully crept around the sleeping form of the Coyote Scout and made his way to the door. He did not want the knocking to interrupt Coyote’s sleep.

When he opened the door, he was not expecting Medic. He _did_ suspect that Chameleon might come, but the Spy was standing aside while the Medic waited at the door. Medic smiled confidently in greeting, whilst Spy looked like he was struggling with his colors, a shade of red running across his face like a light that was there and then gone.

“Ah! Decalopod,” the Medic greeted, “I prepared a bit of a course for you to practice.”

“What?” he blinked up at the man.

He reeled internally. He had a lot to say to Chameleon for showing up. He expected Chameleon to say a lot for showing up. Yet here was Medic, standing in the way of them sorting things out.

Medic frowned, “You didn’t forget to come back to the infirmary for more testing. Did you? I thought we could start early and run a course test run so you could become familiar with the activities.”

“Erm,” Hamish paused, sparing another glance for Chameleon Spy. The Spy quickly averted his gaze, a shade of blue passing over his skin.

“If you are not busy,” the Medic glanced over him, “Ahem…shall I show you the course?”

“Well…I um…” he glanced at Chameleon Spy again.

In his mind, it was the harder but the more necessary route. He needed to talk to the Spy alone. He needed to tell him what had been on his mind. He needed to tell him how he felt and what this did to him. He needed to straighten things out with the Spy in their relationship. And that was leagues more important than what Medic had planned.

Hamish gestured towards Chameleon Spy as he spoke to Medic, “As interesting as that sounds, I kind of need to-”

Medic turned to follow his gesture to the other mercenary. Medic smiled and cut him off, “Oh! Chameleon Spy will be joining us. I mean, you said you have nothing better to do, right?” Medic looked to the Spy for an answer, but Chameleon gave none.

“Come on!” Medic turned, gesturing for Hamish to follow.

With a reluctant sigh, Hamish closed the door and proceeded after the Medic. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the Chameleon Spy walking along beside him. Medic walked along ahead, though a bit slowly, but the Spy walked beside him.

At the infirmary, Medic held the doors open for them, admitting the two of them like guests. Hamish barely spared a glance for the giant tank, which now stood empty. All of the water had been drained away, but it did not look the least bit clean.

His eyes turned to the mess of stuff littering the infirmary. His first thought was that the Medic had tricked them into coming so they would help clean the infirmary. He groaned internally at that, reaching to raise a table to its legs.

“Alright!” the Medic stepped right over the table and proceeded to look around his mess, “This is your course!”

“What?” Hamish climbed onto the table and looked around. The mess had bits of order. He could see at least some form of puzzle here and there. The rest he was not sure what it was about.

“We are going to push your cognitive abilities with motor functions!” the Medic said, far more excitedly than he had any right to be at this hour of the morning.

“How is this going to do that?” Hamish questioned as he studied the coordinated mess.

“We’ll start here,” Medic beckoned him towards a game board. Hamish joined him and quickly realized he would be expected to play chess, as if he was any good at that.

“I’m no good at this,” Hamish gestured to the chess board, “Perhaps it should be checkers instead?”

“Nein,” the Medic shook his head, “You need to be thoroughly challenged.”

“I’m sure you’re leagues better at it than me though,” Hamish argued, as he sat at the chess board.

“Not me,” the Medic shook his head, “You’ll be playing against Spy.”

“I am?” the Spy asked for him.

“Yes, you are playing against the Decalopod,” Medic gestured to Hamish.

Hamish sighed. That was a dumb code name to begin with. This was a dumb idea. He wanted to be in bed sleeping.

Chameleon said nothing as he sat cross legged on the floor across the board from Hamish. Medic was behind Hamish, where he could not see what he was doing. Hamish looked to Chameleon, but the man said nothing, opting for silently staring at the board like he was lifeless and without an opinion to state. He did not seem like himself in the least.

“Go ahead and start the game,” Medic insisted.

Seeing as Hamish had the white pieces, he figured he might as well go first. He was not a clever planner, so he just picked a pawn and put it out by two spaces. He looked up to see Chameleon was being a little more careful, scanning the board with prejudice.

He was not sure when Medic sat down behind him, but he was surprised by the hand on his tentacle. He stiffened, trying to think of anything that would make the hand gently guiding the appendage to a block piece any less intimate. It was not helping that the man was not wearing his usual rubber gloves. Bare hands were warm and soft against his flesh and he was not sure he had any will power over the tingling sensation that was building.

“Erm…your turn?” Chameleon said hesitantly.

Hamish let a breath out through his nose as he turned his attention to the board. Chameleon picked a pawn to move out onto the board while he was too focused to notice.

“Right,” Hamish mumbled as he tried to remember the rules of the game.

While he was trying to place a piece, large soft hands were deftly unfurling a tentacle to let it wrap around a block. He did not mind the feel of the block. In fact he tried to focus on it. If he could put his mind on the unappealing wooden texture, then he could keep the feelings and thoughts at bay. It was growing so difficult to focus though.

Chameleon pointed to a piece on the board, “Why don’t you try-”

“Don’t help him,” the Medic ordered.

Chameleon frowned, his eyes darting between Hamish and the Medic. He looked a little irritated, but if the Medic noticed, he did not show it. His hands were already guiding the appendage to put another block in another hole.

“He needs to keep his cognitive thinking going while his tactile brain works on-” Medic cut off so suddenly that Hamish almost did not notice the blossoming sensation. He held his breath as he looked down at the tentacles balancing him from the front, as they turned from orange to red. “Ooh! What is this?”

Hamish looked to Chameleon. He felt hot and unable to hide his shame. As exciting as it would be to be brought to peak by the deliciously gorgeous Medic, he was not ready to be humiliated like this. His body shook as he pulled away from Medic, tucking and curling his tentacles inward.

“We’re not done!” Medic exclaimed.

“Can’t you see that you’re stressing him out?” Chameleon barked at Medic.

“What? This is hardly stressful,” Medic argued.

“He doesn’t play chess,” Chameleon argued, “He is not a chess player. Expecting him to do something he doesn’t do while making him do another thing at the same time is frustrating and you’re pushing him. This is too much. You need to stop.”

“Decalopod, just take a breath,” Medic insisted calmly, “You can do this.”

“No, he’s not going to,” Chameleon scrambled to his feet, “Why do you think his tentacles turned red?”

Hamish kept his face turned away from Medic. He was sure that it was as red as his tentacles now. If it was just Chameleon, he would not mind, but now there was Medic in the mix. He did not want Medic to see how red he was. What if he guessed at what was actually happening?

“Go get ointment!” Chameleon demanded, “A lot of it!”

“O-okay!” Medic darted off towards a supply closet.

Chameleon took off after him. Once Medic stepped inside, Chameleon closed the door and grabbed a chair. Placed it against the door so it would be dealing with the strength of the metal legs. He trotted back over to Hamish and knelt in front of him, “Are you okay?”

“Yea, I’m…” Hamish kept his eyes anywhere but on the other man. It was hard to think straight, and he wanted to concentrate on thinking on unappealing things, not about Chameleon’s soft lips. “I just need a minute.”

Chameleon’s head turned, “How about a cold shower?”

“Yea, that’ll do,” Hamish nodded in agreement. He kept his eyes off of Chameleon.

His friend picked him up off the floor and carried him across the infirmary. He brought Hamish into the bathroom, where he turned on the water. He let Hamish climb in, as the cold water began falling on his body. He shivered at the temperature and tried to focus on anything that was not arousing.

“Are you sure you’re okay? We can stop this now,” Chameleon explained.

“I’m fine,” Hamish sighed.

“He doesn’t know, you know,” Chameleon explained, “About the…your tentacles. He couldn’t have known.”

“Yea, I know,” Hamish rubbed his arms as they grew cold, “I don’t blame him.”

“We can have him wear gloves?” Chameleon suggested.

“I don’t think I could handle it anyways,” Hamish groaned.

His eyes met Chameleon’s eyes for a moment. He turned and pressed his forehead to the edge of the tub. Chameleon grabbed his shoulder to pull him away from that edge.

“I’m sorry about what happened,” Chameleon’s voice was soft and smooth, “I should have thought a bit more about how it affected you. I should have thought about how you felt. Instead, I just sort of assumed like everything, things like being self-conscious just rolled off of you.”

“I’m not mad,” Hamish sighed.

“You’re not?” his tone showed how relieved he was to hear this.

“Nah,” Hamish smiled at him, “I was just waiting for that apology.”

Chameleon sighed, “That’s a relief. Now I can stop ruining my suits trying to mend fences with you.” He raised his knee off the floor, where water had left a large dark mark on his pants.

Hamish chuckled and reached for the Spy’s tie. He managed to grab his lapels and pulled him forward. Off balance, Chameleon fell against him. Hamish held his weight and supported him as he pulled him into a kiss. As much as he would have liked to be sucked off, a kiss was very nice as well.

Hamish sighed as he broke off the kiss. He ran his hand over Chameleon’s head, feeling the fabric of the mask beneath his fingers. He met Chameleon’s eyes, vibrant green irises that faded to a dark yellowish green at the outer edges. The color soon changed completely to gold.

“I’m glad we’re okay now,” Chameleon whispered, “But are you going to be okay?”

“No,” Hamish sighed again, “Not after that kiss, I’m not.”

Chameleon ran a hand over Hamish’s hair, “What are we going to do about Medic?”

“I can’t tell him what’s going on! Just tell him a lie,” Hamish pleaded, “Tell him I’m hurt and need the rest of the day.”

“I don’t think that’ll work in the long run,” Chameleon shook his head, “If he’s as persistent as he’s always been, he’ll eventually find out that…well…your tentacles turn into sex organs.”

Suddenly, the door slammed open. Chameleon gasped, but Hamish was stunned to silence. Medic had a medigun in his hands and looked like he had just charged through a wall. He was breathing heavily, brow furrowed with frustration.

“Did you seriously block the door with a fucking chair?” Medic’s voice was loud in the acoustics of the bathroom.

“Um,” Chameleon slowly rose to his feet.

“I was concerned that you were an enemy spy after the Decalopod! But no, apparently you were going to hide in your little club of secrets that I’m literally trying to unravel!” Medic sounded so frustrated as he threw up an arm. He brought the hand down and ran it over his face. “Of course, you would hide something like this,” Medic grumbled, “Everybody has to hide _something_ and can’t cooperate with me.”

Hamish lowered himself so he could press his forehead to the side of the tub. He bumped his forehead against it over and over. He wondered if there was any way that this situation could get more embarrassing.

“Of course,” Medic sighed.

“Medic,” Chameleon Spy spoke up.

“No, I’ve had enough out of you,” Medic said sternly, “You’re usually more cooperative than this. You knew? And you hid it from me? What, did you think my research was for nothing? You can’t all just keep secrets from me. That research is what is keeping this place running.”

“And we’re thankful for that,” Chameleon insisted, “And I will cooperate in your research about me, but-”

“I’m talking about a huge discovery!” Medic raised his voice, “His tentacles double as sex organs? And you didn’t think- neither of you thought that was important enough to mention before?!”

“It’s not my place to mention it,” Chameleon responded.

“Well,” Medic huffed, “This changes everything. I’ll have to rethink my tests. We need to get back to work though! Who knows what other secrets you’re keeping from me.”

“No,” Chameleon said a bit sternly.

Hamish raised his head and looked up to see that Chameleon was raising an arm to block Medic. He felt a little relieved. This man was currently his wall between himself and what was causing him to feel…a way he did not normally feel. He wondered why he felt so ashamed about it. This was like when Chameleon found out, when Coyote found out, but he could already read them as accepting people of these things.

“No?” Medic questioned.

“You’ve already pushed his limits,” Chameleon said sternly, “That’s enough for today.”

“The hell does that mean? We did not even start!” Medic protested.

“There is a time and a place for testing,” Chameleon insisted, “I understand what you’re trying to do. Believe me, I do. But you’re not doing this to Hamish, just because you don’t understand what you’re doing is wrong?”

Medic balked, “What I’m doing is wrong?” He blinked at Chameleon, incredulous at the notion.

Chameleon nodded, “Just because you don’t understand, does not mean I’ll let you continue.”

“What he fuck are you talking about?” Medic demanded.

“Look,” Hamish finally spoke up. He had to clear his throat to speak up. “I get you don’t understand, but I can’t deal with doing this. It’s…it’s not going to work the way you approach things.”

“What is that supposed to mean? Do you have any idea how many hours I’ve wasted pouring over books for answers about your condition, when you could have been in here giving me the answers?” Medic demanded.

Shame was burning away under the heat. The rising rage lifted his chest and brought his stance more erect. He took a deep breath, filling his chest so he could confidently speak.

“Anytime I tell you anything, you refute it or ignore it. You have no proof for the basis of anything you’ve ever claimed!” Hamish spoke a little loudly for a small bathroom.

“I have basis in science!” the Medic protested.

“I’ve told you over and over again, I’m not a cephalopod,” Hamish told him sternly, “Therefore not a Decalopod. I don’t have whatever those creatures have. I don’t have any of that. I’ve tried to have my own damn private life…for the love of, you would understand if it was literally any other man in this base telling you off for wanting to research his dick!”

Medic blushed, but did not look deterred. Chameleon was quiet, but held a stern stance as well. His arms were folded over his chest as he kept an eye on Hamish and Medic.

“You want research, I get it,” Hamish went on, “But I want to be treated like a damn person! Not a fucking experiment!”

Medic’s lower lip tightened, “If that is how you feel…” He took a step back, turning his shoulder to make a path from the bath to the door. “Then go.”

Hamish hesitated before he reached up to turn off the water. As he crawled out of the tub, Chameleon reached down to pick him up. Hamish was cautious about being wet, but Chameleon did not seem to care about his suit becoming soaked. He picked up a hasty walk as he carried Hamish out of the infirmary and through the halls of the base.

When Hamish realized they were headed to Coyote’s room, he said, “Your room. Take me to your room, please.”

Chameleon proceeded past Coyote’s room without a word. He said nothing when they initially arrived He just closed the door and locked it. He brought Hamish to the couch and set him down. He hurried across the room and disappeared from sight. Hamish decided to wait where he was for the time being, silently contemplating what had happened.

Medic knew now. He knew about Hamish’s tentacles. He saw what the transformation. He saw what aroused him. Then again, enough straight men grew erect when men jerked them off, Medic might just write off the arousal as being due to general stimulation.

He was surprised out of his train of thought when a towel fell on his head. “You should take that shirt off,” Chameleon finally spoke up, “It needs to dry.”

Without a word, Hamish stripped the button down and handed it to Chameleon who disappeared with it. Hamish wrapped the towel around himself at first, holding it like a blanket. He soon realized that he was getting the couch soaking wet and he should use the towel for that. He adjusted so that he was sitting on top of the towel, protecting the couch from his wet tentacles.

When Chameleon returned, he carefully sat down next to Hamish. He rested an arm across the back of the couch. “Do you want help with that?” Chameleon Spy gestured to the tentacles on the towel.

Hamish glanced down for only a moment, “No.” He sighed and leaned back against the couch. He never felt so ashamed as he did in the infirmary bathroom. He could not believe that people would let themselves feel that so often, when it was so draining. His eyes just wanted to close and let his body gather its strength. “I just want to be held.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind,” Chameleon insisted.

Hamish shook his head, “No, I don’t want to be touched. I want to be held.” He closed his eyes as they began to burn.

Chameleon removed his own shirt before wrapping his arms around Hamish. It surprised him a little. It was very comforting though. Pressed against his chest, it was hard to tell that Chameleon was anything but human. He still had that strong human heartbeat, and he radiated warmth. He never knew of a reptile radiating warmth. Chameleon was definitely still more human than the Medic likely knew.

Chameleon began humming softly. It rumbled in his chest. It was sort of soothing to listen to, with one ear hearing it from the air, and the other ear pressed to the vibrations in the Spy’s chest. He could fall asleep like this and forget the tears in his eyes.


	26. New Friend, Auto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hamish makes a friend out of the Automan, at last.

It was not long before Hamish felt better. A good solid nap had woken his body. Now he was just hungry for a meal. Chameleon said he had other things to do, so Hamish ventured out alone.

He was barely around the corner from the Spy’s room when he heard a metallic footstep. He turned in surprise to see a Spybot. He flinched, before relaxing as he remembered what Automan had told him. The Spybot was there to take him to meet with Automan.

He offered up a hand, which the Spybot took. This allowed him to climb up onto the bot for a ride. Once he was comfortably on its back, he rested his chin.

“Swing by the kitchen first,” he requested, “I’m hungry. I’m guessing you could do for a meal too?”

The Spybot nodded on Automan’s behalf as it started on its way towards the kitchen. The strange bot carrying a man on its back drew the attention of those who were in the dining hall. He ignored them as they passed through to the kitchen door.

The Spybot brought him to the countertop and he slipped from its shoulders. He began pulling ingredients and tools from the cupboards as he started working on food. He had the Spybot fetch things around the kitchen as he prepared the food. It took a little longer than he had expected, as he decided to cook some hamburger on the stove. The Spybot moved around quietly, surprisingly silent for something with metal feet. Every now and then, Hamish checked over his shoulder, wary that the Spybot may have disappeared.

Once he was finished, he put the plates on a tray, hoping he could hold the dishes securely. He climbed onto the Spybot’s shoulders and waited as it carried him away. He reminded it a few times – which he figured was just telling Automan – to walk a little slower so he did not spill. As the Spybot made its way down the halls, he wondered why Automan was not speaking through the bot. All of the Soldierbots had their own prerecorded lines plus the speaker that Automan’s voice came out of.

When the Spybot entered the room full of bots, it halted to allow him to climb down. He carefully balanced the tray with his arms, careful not to let it spill. He was glad he had his tentacles, as they allowed for dexterous movement.

As he headed into the well lit room that Auto was in, he decided to announce his presence, “I brought lunch!”

“You shouldn’t have gone through all that trouble,” he heard the man’s voice from the bed.

“No trouble,” he carefully raised himself, scaling up the side of the bed. His arms balanced the tray as if it were a fragile baby. He took a breath as he peaked over the edge, but the muscles in his tentacles strained.

“I would’ve told you to just make sandwiches,” Auto informed him.

“Well ye didn’t tell me,” Hamish placed the tray on the work bench on the other side of the bed. It took a bit of work to get himself across without putting himself on Auto.

“I never installed a speaker into the Spybot,” Auto explained.

“Ah,” Hamish began situating the silverware. He was aware that Auto would need help eating given his current state.

“It’s…it’s not easy for me to eat something I need silverware for,” Auto explained.

“Don’t worry about it none,” Hamish insisted. He turned to Auto with a gesture to the spaghetti plates. “Do you like yours mixed in the sauce? Or do you like the sauce on top?”

“Uh…I like it mixed,” Auto’s face was a little redder than before.

“What are you gettin’ flushed for?” Hamish teased as he mixed the noodles with the sauce.

“I uh…” Automan cleared his throat, catching Hamish’s attention, “I’ve got it.”

Movement caught Hamish’s eye as a mechanical arm came out of nowhere. It was not a highly sophisticated thing, with one two-way joint and a swivel joint where the two pincers met. Hamish held up the fork and let the pincers take it.

“How’re you doing that? That’s impressive!” Hamish watched as the pincers brought the fork to the spaghetti.

“Neural transmitters,” Automan answered, a smile growing across his face, “Was working on the program long before the uh…the accident.”

“What accident?” the words left Hamish’s mouth before he properly registered what he could have meant.

“Take a guess,” Automan said flatly.

“Right,” Hamish chuckled awkwardly as he turned his attention to the pincers. They were not moving as smoothly as a human’s arm could, and instead dropped spaghetti on the bench.

Automan swore under his breath, wriggling where he was with obvious discomfort. The pincers returned the fork to the spaghetti. This time, it tried the swiveling of the rotating joint. But when it lifted the fork, the noodles slid right off. Hamish could hear the quiet groan of frustration as he came to realize why Automan seemed to like sandwiches better.

“You know what? Why don’t I help you with that?” Hamish took the fork from the pincers.

“You don’t have to do that,” Auto insisted.

“I insist,” Hamish pushed the pincer arm away. He picked up Auto’s plate in his free hand so he could set it in Auto’s lap. “I’d like you to at least try a few bites and tell me if it’s any good. Chameleon Spy tells me it’s alright. But I’m wondering if it’d be worth a Michelin star.”

“Alright, alright,” the mechanical arm finally retreated, “I’ll let you help.”

“Good,” Hamish chuckled. He bit his tongue against joking about the mess the mechanical arm already made.

He used the fork to tangle some noodles up in the tongs before offering the bite to him. “Thanks,” the word became muffled as Auto took the bite.

“Don’t need to keep thanking me. You need to do more chewing,” Hamish teased.

Hamish picked up his own plate and created a cradle with two tentacles. He placed the plate on the tentacles so he could easily eat from it. He took a big satisfying bite and hummed. It was a good idea to add hamburger to the mix.

“It’s good,” Auto hummed out.

“Worth a Michelin?” Hamish asked.

“I don’t think that’s really how a Michelin actually works,” Auto chuckled, “You’re not a restaurant.”

Hamish clicked his tongue, “Damn. Still…”

“Do you think about leaving this place?” Auto asked.

Hamish hesitated. The question came as a surprise and felt loaded. It almost seemed like a trap. Then again, he was not sure what kind of damage or consequences would come from thinking about that. On top of that, now that he was thinking about it, he realized that he had not thought much about that at all.

“Strangely, I haven’t,” Hamish admitted.

Auto sighed as he was offered another bite. He chewed the bite for a while before he spoke, “Kind of surprising, but I get it.”

“Do you think about leaving this place?” Hamish asked.

Auto closed his eyes, “All the time.” He opened his eyes and flinched. “Oh! I’m sorry, I started talking about something grim.”

“No no, it’s okay,” Hamish reached out with his hand to pat Auto’s shoulder, “I think most people try to soften everything with small talk and sweet things before they talk about that kind of stuff. I just play along because I don’t like making other people uncomfortable.” He paused to take another bite. He used the time chewing to think about his words. “It’s when you talk about things that are closer to the heart that you start learning about other people, I think.”

“You like other people?” Auto asked.

“Yea,” Hamish shrugged, “I get along well with most people. Lightening the mood comes second nature.”

“Seems like a lot of energy to waste,” Auto argued.

“It’s worth it if you invest the energy wisely,” Hamish protested, “Meeting the right people and getting them in the right setting is all it takes for an easy um…well I don’t know what we’d call it.” He laughed and Auto joined in.

“You’re right,” Auto laughed, “I think you’re good with people. Wish I had that kind of charisma.”

“You don’t have to have charisma,” Hamish offered.

Auto sighed, “Well, I’ve never been good with people.”

“Don’t say that,” Hamish shook his head, “You’re human. Humans are social creatures. You just gotta practice at it.”

“I’ve always done best with machines and the like,” Automan looked over Hamish’s shoulder.

Hamish turned to see the pictures lining the wall. There were so many people on that wall. Many of the pictures had Automan in them, namely with two hands and standing on two legs. It seemed as though the man had a lot of friends at an earlier time in his life.

“Machines never leave,” Auto added.

“You seem like you had a lot of fun with a lot of people at some time,” Hamish studied the various faces on the wall. He turned back to Automan to offer him another bite of food. “You don’t seem like you’re bad with people.”

“I got _inconvenient_,” Automan said before taking the bite. He chewed before explaining further, “I think I got by on looks, smarts and just having that one extroverted friend.”

Hamish was not sure what to say. He could only frown and chew on the inside of his lip. He tried thinking of something to offer as comfort, but nothing he thought of felt right to say. He was sure Automan would not like these responses either.

“Well,” Automan sighed, “That’s just life though, isn’t it?”

“How do you mean? That’s not life,” Hamish protested, “That’s cruel.”

“When you’re inconvenient, being interesting in any way goes right out the window,” Automan explained.

Hamish carefully twirled some more noodles on the fork for Automan. He let the man chew his bite while thinking. It made him all the angrier. Coyote and Chameleon both protested to him showing kindness to Automan, like there was something wrong with him. How could they turn their backs on him like this? He shook his head, trying to make sense of their behavior.

Automan sighed, “Just you wait. You’ll get sick of me too.”

Hamish was snapped out of his thoughts as he absentmindedly twirled more spaghetti, “No, I won’t.”

“You don’t know that,” Automan argued, “Everybody does. Everybody did.”

Hamish set the plate and fork down, “How often does doc come here? To see you? To help you?”

“Once…every other day…if I’m lucky,” Automan sighed, “He doesn’t like seeing me. Seeing as I’m like a child to take care of-”

Hamish cut him off loudly, “ONLY ONCE EVERY OTHER DAY?!”

That had to be the worst of it. The Medic – who clearly had a history with this man – would let him struggle to take care of himself. With no arms or legs, and only the ingenuity he could build with machines, Automan was not fit to take care of himself alone. Hamish was ready to storm the infirmary for a well needed shouting match with the Medic.

“Don’t bother with that situation,” Automan argued, “I shouldn’t even be here. Only reason I am is I have nowhere to go and no way to get there. The doc’s my only hope of getting by, but as it stands, I’m not an experiment and he has nothing to learn from me. So I’m just a waste of his time and a waste of space.”

Hamish wanted to reach out and hug Auto. He was not sure he should. It might come off the wrong way. Perhaps he was getting too attached, but this felt too heartless. The way Automan spoke for himself was completely heartless. He did not seem to value himself in the least.

“For the time being, thanks for being a pal,” Auto seemed to finally turn his mind back to the present, “I know it won’t last, but it’s not often I get somebody to talk to.”

Hamish fell silent. Automan fell silent. There was not much else to say, as Hamish resumed twirling noodles and feeding them to Automan. He liked to think he was a better man, and a better friend, than to simply push a helpless friend aside for convenience’s sake.

He thought back to all of the behaviors of the past. Automan did seem to have a bit of a temper. Considering how little he could do, with no way to move himself, it was within reason to believe that his temper could get out of hand real fast. Fists hurt the body, but words hurt the mind.

“So…” Hamish tried to think of something lighter to talk about, “When did you start building bots?”

Automan’s eyes lit up and a smile grew on his face at the inquiry, “I started building them a long time ago. I was fascinated with robotics, and I thought…well hell! If you could build a sentry and put it down to kill for you, why not some bots that can run around and do the killing too? You’d need an engineer on the job, obviously. Bots can’t repair themselves very well.”

“Well, that’s something! I’ll bet you’d have a pretty big contract for something like that! Wouldn’t ya?” Hamish asked with a cheerful smile.

“Well, I woulda…I was going to try and market the idea of using bots to the Administrator, but then…well…the accident happened. Now I’m bed ridden,” Automan explained with a reluctant sigh.

Hamish glanced at the stumps of the man’s arms for a moment. He returned his attention to the spaghetti very quickly, “You could still sell the bots though.”

“I ain’t sellin’- Those backstabbers would turn on me and steal everything!” Automan raised his voice angrily.

Hamish bristled at first. The anger was unwarranted and the loudness of his voice unwanted. He took a breath to calm himself, raising his hands to pacify the man.

“You don’t have to do nothing,” Hamish spoke calmly, “It’s just an observation. If you don’t want to sell them, then that’s your right. Nobody’s going to force it.”

That seemed to pacify the Automan. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing momentarily. “Nobody sees it from my perspective,” Automan growled, “They see it as things to be sold. I see it as my life’s work. My blueprints, my plans, my bots on the line. Everything…it’s all on the line. And if I can’t raise a gun, how am I going to protect my worn work? I can’t market it, I’ll have no way to defend it from the thieves that’ll come looking for my work.”

Hamish nodded as he thought over the man’s words. It made sense. Nobody else was showing their support to defend Automan’s work. Hamish supposed if he had a brilliant idea to sell, he would want to be able to defend it as well. He would not want his intellectual property stolen.

“That makes sense,” Hamish nodded, “You don’t have anyone to support you in protecting your property. So, you shouldn’t put it on the market. That would be dangerous to your safety, seeing as they would probably off you in the process.”

Suddenly, Automan got a grin on his face. Then he was chuckling quietly. Hamish looked at him for a moment, watching the man looking back at him chuckle. He tilted his head at him.

“What’s so funny?” Hamish asked.

“That’s the first time anybody’s seen it my way,” Automan answered. His chuckling calmed down and he seemed to relax.

Hamish smiled, “Not everybody can understand what it’s like being in your position.”

“I don’t think even you can,” Automan argued.

“No, perhaps not,” Hamish agreed, “I did spend a good time unable to do much, but that doesn’t surmount to being without arms and legs for the rest of my life.”

He looked down at his tentacles, reminded for the first time in a while that he was not normal. It was strange, but being here talking with Automan, who had stopped bringing attention to his tentacles, Hamish had forgotten they were there. Ever present and always moving to investigate the area around him, he was usually peripherally aware of their presence.

“I’m just stuck like this,” his words sounded more woeful in his own ears than he had intended.

Automan sighed, “Sorry pal. I’ll admit, I found it a little creepy at first. But, you know, at least you can move around, right?”

“I ain’t getting nowhere fast, but yes,” Hamish nodded.

“I was just wondering, I used to watch the cephalopods at the aquarium moving around…what exactly are you doing with your arms there?” Automan asked.

“Huh?” Hamish checked each of the ten tentacles and his arms. His arms were not doing anything, but the tentacles were exploring the bed. He was suddenly very aware of the soft sheets and a warm spot. He was alarmed at first, before he realized that he was feeling a heating pad at the end of the bed. “Do you have a heating pad there?”

“Yea,” Automan nodded, “Keep it far cause I can’t move it. I don’t get burned but I get a bit of warmth in the blankets.”

“Ah,” Hamish pulled his tentacles to himself, trying to keep them tightly against each other.

“You ever seen a cephalopod at the aquarium?” Automan asked.

“Can’t say for sure,” Hamish shrugged, “I am not sure what the word means.”

“It’s a general name for a group of animals that include octopuses, squids and other creatures. Some cute ones can change their colors to disguise themselves. Octopuses are probably the best known,” Automan explained.

“Yea, I reckon I have octopus tentacles,” Hamish explained.

Automan burst into laughter at that. Hamish looked at him for a long time. Automan just threw back his head and laughed harder.

“What? What is so funny?” Hamish demanded.

“You don’t have octopus tentacles!” Automan laughed.

“Well…” Hamish pulled the tentacles in tighter, “I don’t know cephalopods.”

“Octopuses don’t have tentacles,” Automan informed him, “They have eight arms. Squids have two tentacles and arms. Have you been calling them tentacles this whole time?”

“Um…yes?” Hamish frowned, looking down at the squirmy arms beneath him.

Automan laughed, “Can’t believe doc did all that research and didn’t even tell you that!”

“He called them tentacles too,” Hamish said.

Automan started laughing even harder, “He didn’t even- That’s damn beautiful!”

Hamish wanted to bring up remembering Automan calling them tentacles. He could not say for sure when he remembered him saying this. But seeing him laugh so much and be so jovial was too much to risk. He was not about to stop this to try and call him out on something inconsequential.

“Well, like I said…” Hamish shrugged, “I don’t know cephalopods either.”

“Well, you know now,” Automan was grinning as he settled down from his laughter, “Nice to know, ain’t it?”

Hamish nodded with a small smile, “It is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Octopuses do not in fact have tentacles, despite modern media calling them such. Octopuses in fact have eight arms. Squids also have eight arms, however they also have two tentacles.
> 
> Another fun fact: I did research on these animals during the first chapters of the story and became aware of this fact somewhere around the third or so chapter. Having already written "tentacles" a bunch of times, I thought it would be funny for Hamish to find that out later and let it sink in that even Medic's research is flawed. It was supposed to come up much earlier, but the story did not have time or space for this reveal. So I decided to make Automan the guy with weird interests who also happens to know a thing or two about cephalopods.


	27. Not Fair

Hamish woke up in an unfamiliar place. His head was throbbing and all he could do was groan. He looked around the room and started slowly piecing things together. Soldier Bird’s nest was not very well furnished and its high location made it stand out a lot.

Hamish sat up slowly, before he realized that somebody was snuggling him from behind. He turned to see Soldier Bird sound asleep, with his beak hanging open on the pillow. He looked around and spotted Coyote Scout flopped over a set of crates with a blanket draped over him. He was snoring noisily, looking like he had been left there while comatose.

His eyes explored further and they came upon a surprise. He stared at Chameleon, watching him adjust the cuffs of his sleeves like a perfectionist. His colors were already adjusted to disguise himself in normalcy, but Hamish thought something was off.

“What happened?” he looked around the room some more. He took in the sight of emptied bottles, overturned crates and empty cases for beer. It looked like they drank everything and passed out in the aftermath. “Bloody hell, I must still be drunk,” he burped.

“That was…quite a night,” Hamish immediately recognized the shaky hint of nervousness in Chameleon’s voice.

“Something wrong?” Hamish looked at the Spy for an answer.

“I had not intended to sleep here last night,” Chameleon Spy swallowed, “I was very…vulnerable…sleeping up here.”

“I’m…sorry…” Hamish slowly moved from the makeshift bed, still trying to take in his surroundings, “Did we party? What happened?”

Chameleon turned to face him squarely, “You don’t remember?”

“No,” Hamish shook his head. He picked up a bottle and studied the label, “Think I’d at least remember drinking so much.”

“You don’t remember…” he noted the change of colors on Chameleon’s cheeks before they returned to normal, “You don’t remember what we did last night?”

Hamish glanced at the unconscious men, “What did we do?”

Chameleon cleared his throat uneasily, “Collectively, many of us got very drunk. There was some fighting and shouting. You came out with that Soldierbot. There was a fight, so we took our drinks elsewhere. You suggested we go with Soldier Bird and we came up here.”

“Ah…so my idea,” he began collecting some of the bottles in one area. If this was his idea, then he should clean up the mess, or at least help.

“Well, that and Coyote’s idea to fuck,” Chameleon added.

Hamish’s head whipped around to look up at him, “Coyote’s idea to fuck?”

“Yes?” Chameleon raised an eyebrow, all the image of poise.

“Wait…did we…” Hamish glanced at the unconscious men before turning back to Chameleon Spy for an answer.

“They were conscious at the time,” Chameleon answered, “And begging you for more. Or at least, I’m pretty sure that was what Soldier Bird was saying.”

Hamish’s face felt hot with embarrassment. At the same time, he felt shame for not remembering. He had three men together and he did not even remember it.

“I’ll admit, I’m not sure I would have gone along with it if I was not so drunk. I didn’t exactly join in until Coyote Scout was out of it. Still, I…I guess I enjoyed it more than I thought I would. We should do this again sometime. You and me, I mean, not the orgy.”

“We had an orgy?!” Hamish ran his hands over his face.

“I’m sorry to say that we did and you were surprisingly well off for somebody so drunk,” Chameleon smirked at him, “I’m going to my…abode…for a private smoke. Would you like to come with?”

Hamish paused to glance at the unconscious men again. He shook his head, “No, I should clean up here. Would you mind carrying Coyote to his room? I’m afraid I cannot help him. I’m going to clean up Soldier Bird’s space.”

Chameleon hummed before walking over to the unconscious Scout. He paused, looking down at him thoughtfully. Finally, he gave the crates a hard kick, which startled the Scout. He barely moved, just letting out an exclamation.

“Wake up, I’m taking you back to your room,” Chameleon told the Scout.

Coyote groaned in protest, “Five more minutes. I’ll get out.”

“Come on,” Chameleon kicked the crates again, “We’re going now.”

“Not now,” Chameleon moaned, trying to turn onto his side on the awkward crates.

“You need to go to your own bed,” Chameleon grabbed Coyote’s arm and pulled him up, “Get up.”

“I don’t wanna,” Coyote moaned.

“Get up and go, lad,” Hamish spoke up, “You need to git.”

“Huh?” Coyote raised his head and looked around. He blinked at Hamish first. Then he looked up at Chameleon. He threw his leg out to try and kick the Spy. “The hell do you want?”

“For you to get up,” Chameleon answered.

Coyote grunted and scooted so he could sit up. He rubbed his head as he looked around, “Where are we?”

“Bird Soldier’s room,” Chameleon glanced over at the makeshift bed.

Hamish’s gaze turned as he saw the owner of the room rubbing his eye. He was slowly getting up, holding himself up with one hand. As the blanket fell away, it revealed the bare skin, freckled where human hair was replaced with small white feathers.

“The hell are we doing here?” Coyote’s voice suddenly grew loud. He winced in regret, clearly pained by a hangover.

“Get up, you hungover idiot,” Chameleon grumbled, “We’re going.”

“Wait…” Coyote spoke a bit more quietly. He turned to look over at Bird Soldier then to Hamish. There was something like shock or perhaps awe in his eyes. Suddenly, he was smiling at Hamish. “Oh shit! That was a wild night!”

“Yes,” Chameleon grunted, pulling on Coyote’s shirt, “Now get up.”

“Hold on,” Coyote sat up, draping the blanket over his lap, “Where are my pants? And my underpants?”

Bird Soldier raised an arm and pointed across the room. Hamish’s head swiveled to follow the pointing finger to where Coyote’s pants were flung over a crate. His undergarments – now a tarnished mess – were slouched on the ground in a heap Hamish did not want to touch. He watched Coyote cross the room at a slow lumbering pace.

“Hey, how come you aren’t bothered by how dirty it is…it is in here?” Coyote stumbled over his words sleepily as he addressed Hamish.

“Don’t worry about that,” Hamish regretted hearing this, as it brought his attention to the texture under his arms. He pulled them closer to his body, but they were already covered in the dirty gritty sensation.

“Get your pants on, let’s go,” Chameleon urged the younger mercenary.

Once Coyote had his pants on, he finally made his way down the stairs. He did not necessarily go along with Chameleon. Rather, he began arguing with Chameleon, while being urged onward by the Spy. He was not willing to go along so willfully and easily though. He could hear the two of them arguing all the way down to the bottom of the old building.

His attention was drawn back by a clicking noise. He turned to look at Bird Soldier and saw that he was finally sitting up. It was not immediately apparent what he wanted, so Hamish moved lifted an empty bottle. “I’m going to clean up.”

Bird Soldier clicked again. Hamish tilted his head, unsure of what to make of the clicking. Maybe he wanted Hamish to leave as well? He could not exactly tell how the Bird Soldier was feeling right now. It occurred to him that he might want the privacy of his nest.

“Do you…” he glanced at the exit, “Do you want me to leave?”

Bird Soldier shook his head. He lifted a hand to beckon Hamish closer. When Hamish came closer, it became apparent to him that the man was hiding a stiffy. He felt conflicted, now feeling the grit under his arms. He was too aware of it to simply forget.

“Erm…as much as I’d like to…” Hamish raised the empty bottle again, “I’d like to clean up first. I’m…I’m kind of a dirty mess as well. I’d like a shower and…” He patted himself as he realized that he was bare. “I think I came here with a shirt on.”

Bird Soldier turned to lift a button down shirt from the other side of the crates. It was a wrinkled mess, but Hamish recognized the pattern as one of the shirts Chameleon had given to him. He took the shirt and shook it out. It seemed a bit dirty, so he decided not to put it on. He instead folded it up and set it aside.

“If you’re randy later, we can have at it, just you and me sober…but right now we need to clean up,” just as he finished speaking, his stomach let out a growl, “And perhaps some food.”

Bird Soldier’s stomach growled in response. His beak bobbed up and down dramatically in response. He rose to his feet and walked over to a trunk to dig out clothes.

While Bird Soldier dressed, Hamish resumed cleaning up the mess they made the night before. It would help to at least move the bottles to one area of the room to be put into a trash bag or something.

Hamish was surprised when burly arms scooped him up. He did not have a chance to protest as Bird Soldier started marching down the stairs. He glanced over his shoulder at the mess they left behind. He decided it could wait until later. They could eat food and wash up first.

After food, the shower felt so relaxing. Hamish could have dozed off under the warmth of the water. He let it beat against his shoulders relentlessly

He was surprised when a shadowed came to his stall. He looked up to see Bird Soldier moving down to his knees. Lowering himself to Hamish’s level, he pressed his head against Hamish’s forehead, his beak turned away.

Hamish said nothing, reaching up to sift his fingers through the feathers. He felt arms snake around him and Bird Soldier’s head moved around for this hug. Hamish wrapped his arms around the other man, enjoying the thick-muscled, strong embrace.

“I hope I was a gentleman last night,” Hamish said quietly, “I can’t remember a single thing.”

Bird Soldier pulled back to look at him. His head tilted to the left curiously as he studied Hamish with one eye. To Hamish, he seemed uncertain. It made him question what might have happened.

“I…wasn’t rude, was I?” he asked, worriedly. Bird Soldier shook his head. Hamish sighed and relief and offered him a smile. “Ah good,” Hamish chuckled, “You can never be too sure when you’re black out drunk.”

Bird Soldier nodded in response. He rose to his feet and stumbled. He began gathering his own clothes to get dressed.

It had been a long morning of nursing the hangover before Hamish found himself in the infirmary again. Today, Chameleon was not joining them. It was just Hamish and the Medic. The man was mostly just taking measurements, weighing Hamish’s arms and seeing how thick and long they were compared to when he first arrived.

“You seem like maybe you put on more weight,” the Medic commented in passing.

“Or built more muscle,” Hamish suggested.

Medic shook his head, “Nope. Not much muscle there.”

“No need to be like that,” Hamish frowned, trying not to look too disheartened by the comment.

“Be like what?” Medic asked dismissively as he wrote something down on a notepad.

“You know what you’re doing,” Hamish protested, “It’s rude.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Medic protested.

“Don’t gimme that!” Hamish raised his voice in a harsh rebuttal, “You’re being passive aggressive. It’s clearer than that glass you haven’t cleaned in Lord knows how long!” He pointed to the old windows, which sat in minor disrepair.

Medic rolled his eyes, “Don’t be such a baby.”

“I’m not being a baby,” Hamish took a deep breath, “I’m trying to communicate with you, doc. You’re not being forthcoming. What’s made you so…pissy?”

“Pissy? Why would I be pissy?” the Medic put up his hands defensively.

“I don’t know! You tell me, doc,” Hamish scoffed, “You’ve had a bad attitude since I got here.”

“I have _not_! Now, are you done making accusations? Because I tire of them!” Medic replied sharply.

“I tire of being a test subject whilst you hold such a shitty attitude!” he pulled his arms under himself and folded his two humanoid arms over his chest.

“Oh come on,” Medic scoffed, placing his notepad and pen aside, “You can’t honestly hold out because you’re being sensitive.”

“No,” Hamish refused to loosen his arms, glaring at him.

Medic hesitated, before he raised his hands to point to his face. As he pointed, he changed his expression to a big smile. He changed his tone to something more chipper. “Look! See? I can put on a pleasant face.”

“You’re not fooling anyone, doc,” Hamish slowly unraveled the arms from underneath himself, “But if you can keep your attitude in check, then we can get along.”

“I can manage,” the Medic kept that fake smile as he picked up his notepad again.

Hamish glared at him, “I’m not buying it.”

Medic slammed the notepad back down, “What? What will get you to cooperate?”

“Well, why don’t you tell me why you’ve been such a damn git? Huh? Why don’t you tell me why today you’ve decided to be a damn arsehole?” Hamish demanded.

“I am not!” Medic protested.

“Yes, you are! You are usually polite and at least respectful. You don’t even seem like you’re getting anything out of this. You’re treating me like a chore, on top of already being treated like an object!” Hamish barked.

“What do you want me to do? I’m working all day! Every day is work! What do you want me to do?” Medic’s voice was loud and he was rather close to Hamish’s face.

“Why are you acting like this? Why?” Hamish pleaded with him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Medic’s voice seemed to grow louder.

Hamish raised his voice in turn, “You’re shouting at me!”

“You’re shouting!” Medic rebutted.

“I’m not taking this bullshit!” Hamish pointed at the Medic, “You are a sour grape. And I’ll come back when you’ve ripened!”

“What does that even mean?” Medic countered.

“I’m leaving!” Hamish turned and started towards the door.

“No!” a hand grabbed his shirt and pulled him around.

Hamish felt slight panic at having his new shirt twisted around like this. It was a fresh one out of the bag, one he had not used yet. He quickly grabbed the Medic’s wrist as his eyes rose to meet the man’s gaze. The way his nose wrinkled and his brow drew over his eyes, Hamish would have guessed at bloodlust or at least hatred. His other hand balled up into a fist, ready to take action.

“You don’t get to go around, acting like you own the damn place! You at least have to give me the results for the reports!” Medic pulled on the front of the shirt.

“I don’t need to do a damn thing! And you’d have it, if you weren’t being such a damn git!” Hamish struggled to try and free his shirt from the other man’s grasp.

Both of Medic’s hands grasped his shirt, “It’s not fair!”

“What’s not fair? You picked this! You wanted to do this! You invited us here. We’re the victims. Other peoples’ victims, but we’re the victims. And you’re acting like we owe you for being victims!” Hamish roared as loudly as he could.

“NO!” Medic’s eyes snapped shut as he roared in response, “It’s not fair that you get Simon!”

Confusion kept Hamish silent as he was not sure how to respond. When the Medic’s eyes snapped open, he gasped. Both hands released Hamish’s shirt as they raised to cover his face. He took a step back, putting distance between himself and Hamish.

“Uh…doc?” Hamish tried to reason out who was Simon.

Was it the Soldier Bird? No, Auto had mentioned him before, his name was Dillon or something. It was a name with a D.

He knew it was not Coyote Scout. Coyote Scout had mentioned that his name was Luther. He also would have been all over any advances the Medic would have made towards him. And if any advances had been made, Coyote would be bragging about it non-stop, Hamish was sure of it.

That left Auto as the possible other person Medic was talking about. It made sense in hindsight. Auto had hinted at him and Medic being close before. Though, Hamish wondered how close. Maybe it was a moral thing for Medic not to get too close to Auto. But even then, the Medic had been neglecting Auto’s care to claim to care about him that much.

Suddenly, he remembered that he did stumble upon the two of them arguing before. It had been rather heated. It seemed too intimate to be an argument between coworkers, let alone friends.

_“You always do this!” the Medic proclaimed, arms thrown up in frustration._

_He looked so flustered. If not for the messy bed hair, loose tie and disheveled clothes, his red face and gleaming eyes told it all. He had to be flustered, to let all of those papers just fall from the air kicked up by his arms._

_“Do what? Be human? You wouldn’t know the first damn thing about being that, would you?” Automan’s voice came through the bot’s speaker._

_“Don’t start with that! Don’t start with me on that!” the Medic snapped back, “You’re the one who acts like he’s so powerful and mighty he can’t be bothered to leave his own damn room!”_

_“YOU KNOW WHY I DON’T LEAVE MY ROOM!” the Automan shouted over the speaker with all of the force in his voice._  
_“It’s because you can’t stand to face the truth like a normal human being!” the Medic barked back at him._

_“Coming from the man who can’t see when someone’s hurting,” the Automan’s voice calmed down._

_“People come to me when they are in pain,” the Medic’s voice was snippy as his chin raised, “I’m not blind to their pain.”_

_“Obviously, you are,” Automan said firmly._

_“You’re so full of yourself…I can’t believe I let you do this to me again,” the Medic turned away, placing his palms against a table._

Hamish bit his lip as he thought back. How jealous could Medic really be though? Hamish was only making friends. It was not appropriate to be so angry with Hamish about making friends with Auto after treating him like this. After all, the man was an amputee with no way to take care of himself. He was barely surviving off of sandwiches.

“Automan?” Hamish spoke hesitantly, expecting some clarification.

Medic blinked at him. His eyes were big, staring at him with wide astonishment. “No,” the man spoke slowly, “N-not Trevor.”

Hamish stared up at the man, unable to speak. The Automan’s name was Trevor now? So, who was Simon? This unknown person was lost to him as he reasoned out that he did not know a Simon.

“You’re mad at me about somebody that I…don’t know?” Hamish furrowed his brow as he tried to find the logic in Medic’s rage.

“Y-you have- you have Chameleon!” Medic threw his arms up in the air with frustration, “And…and…and he’s practically wrapped around your goddamn tentacle!”

Hamish glanced down at the soft arms beneath him. He folded two arms over his chest and glared up at Medic. “They’re arms.”

Already, his mind was spinning through thoughts. Medic’s rage was so unwarranted and out of place. He was usually so polite towards Hamish. Yet here he was, rude and outraged. Expressing such a level of entitlement that Hamish could not understand where the man’s thoughts were coming from.

To top the whole cake off with a cherry, the man had given him a name that Hamish had been hoping to get from the man himself. He had not thought a lot about it, since most of the mercenaries just preferred their nicknames. It was Hamish who preferred to be called his own name over some nickname. But if he was to learn the real name of the Spy, then he wanted it from the horse’s mouth. He did not want this cop out from the Medic.

He raised himself up as tall as he could and puffed up his chest, “Mind your own business, Medic. Mind your own goddamn business and leave Chameleon alone. What _he_ chooses to do with his life is none of your concern.” He wanted to panic and think over how ridiculous it seemed to think that Chameleon would not know about this. Or perhaps he did know and had covered up knowing about it. Hamish tried to keep a stern look on his face while the thoughts raced.

“Just…” Medic ran a hand over his face and pushed his hair back for a moment, “Just get out.”

Hamish did not hesitate. He obliged the request and headed out the double doors. As soon as the doors shut behind him, he took a deep breath. He needed some time to think alone. He needed a chance to gather his thoughts. The clarity he needed to go forward with the information he had received would require some alone time.


	28. Fuck Me

Hamish let the water run, pressing his back against the back wall of the stall. He was not interested in the shower, so much as he wanted to be alone. This was a good chance to be alone. Most of the others were not showering so this was as good a place as any.

The cold wall against his back and the hot steam offered him the perfect combination for thinking. Amidst the water roaring against the tile flooring, his mind drifted away. He allowed his mind to be distracted for the time being. Alone at peace, he could mull over what he had learned and what he wanted to say. He thought there were some things he just should not say, he should not bring them up at all.

The roar of the water almost distracted him from the clip of shoes against the tile flooring. He straightened up and moved under the water, to at least pretend he was washing. His eyes landed on the shoes that turned to point the toes towards him. He looked up the length of the elegant body to Chameleon’s curious face.

“Spy?” he asked, puzzled.

“You don’t usually come in here twice unless you’re with somebody – usually Coyote. I can only imagine you’re dealing with…frustration?” Chameleon’s tone was like a purr as he removed his jacket to place it where Hamish left his button up shirt.

Hamish took a breath, “Eh…I mostly came in to think.”

“What are you thinking about?” Chameleon remained within sight as he unbuckled his belt and slowly slid it out of the loops.

“Ah…well…” he did not feel ready to tell Chameleon what happened. He needed to think about the consequences of what he might say if he revealed what the Medic had gone on about. His eyes watched Chameleon’s gloves fall away. He chased the way they trailed down his front to undo each button.

That was when it hit him, almost all at once. It was both arousal and realization. He wanted to fuck Chameleon. More than that, the Medic wanted to fuck Chameleon.

“I had a…rough time dealing with doc,” he swallowed as he watched the man bare his chest and then his arms. He wanted to wrap all of his arms around him and feel every inch of muscle. “It…um…didn’t end so well.”

“Oh, I’m sorry I was not there to keep him in check,” Chameleon shot him a worried glance as he set the white shirt with the jacket, “Would you like me to talk to him for you?”

“No, I think that would be a bad idea,” Hamish protested, watching as the shoes and socks were discarded. He began chewing on his lip as all of the arms beneath him flexed with the throb of want. “I think I’d rather not talk about him.”

“Hmm,” Spy’s body had a relaxed pose as his fingers elongated the time to just remove that one button on his slacks.

“I’d rather talk about you,” he said. It was a partial lie, as every part of his body wanted nothing more than to just grab onto Chameleon and have at him physically. No more talking, no more seducing, just pure sexual congress.

“What about _me_ interests you?” Chameleon smirked coyly. His fingers slowly drew down the zipper on the front of his pants.

“I think you know what interests me,” Hamish forced his eyes to move up to Chameleon’s face. The man was smirking with such glee. “I want a lot more than you’re probably willing…”

The Spy said nothing as he slowly pushed the waistbands of his pants and boxers down together. Hamish watched the reveal of contours he was already familiar with. They were familiar, but he still loved them.

“Oof…” Hamish grunted, as he tried to mentally reel in control of all his arms. He could not go all out on Chameleon the way he could with Coyote.

“What’s wrong?” Chameleon stepped into the stall, bare of clothes aside from his mask, “I thought you were getting riled up?” He had such a mischievous smirk that Hamish could have kissed him if it was so easy to close the distance between their mouths.

Hamish glanced over the nude body before him, marveling at what he saw. He was not sure what to be more awed about though. The fact that Chameleon was just strutting in to seduce him, or the fact that he was naked in the community showers. His mind was swimming and he was not sure if he could keep a hold on what his arms wanted to do.

Hamish reached up and wrapped his fingers around Chameleon’s cock. He was hard within a few strokes. He could already feel the man’s heart throb as he pressed a kiss to it.

Chameleon hummed, “As much as I appreciate your mouth, I didn’t come here for that.” He slowly got down onto his knees, spreading them a little as he came down to Hamish’s level.

“You don’t have to get down here, lad,” Hamish insisted, seeing as the man’s knees were likely uncomfortable against such hard tiling. He could remember well enough how it could hurt.

“I want to,” Chameleon leaned towards him, “I want you to fuck me.”

“You want me to fuck you?” he was already having a hard time, as two arms began to tangle their way around the Spy’s thighs. His mind was filled thick with the bliss of those words and the want that came with them.

“Yes,” Chameleon nodded, “Fuck me like you fucked me last night. Fuck me like you took me and Scout last night.”

“We…fucked last night?” Hamish had to pause for thought, slowly pushing some fog away to clear his thoughts.

Chameleon chuckled, “You really don’t remember last night?”

“Eh…I am not sure I remember much of yesterday at all,” Hamish chuckled.

“Well, that makes you _and_ Coyote,” Chameleon chuckled breathily.

“We really…did? Last night?” Hamish asked.

Chameleon nodded, “What do you say? Another round?”

Hamish could not refrain from smiling, “I mean, you’re pretty much naked in the showers to seduce me. You’re doing a pretty bang up job of it to.”

“It’s not the best choice…in my opinion…” Chameleon offered Hamish a hand as he climbed up the wall to get a better vantage.

“Then why are we doing this here? Why not invite me to your room?” Hamish held his arms outwards.

“This seemed more arousing in my head,” Chameleon looked around with disgust for the floor.

“Well,” Hamish chuckled, “Isn’t this silly.”

“It wouldn’t be silly if…ugh…” Chameleon ran his hand over his hair.

“Let’s just…wash and then go back to your room,” Hamish insisted.

“But with things happening now, it would be more convenient,” Chameleon explained, vaguely gesturing towards his genitals.

“If it doesn’t work out, then it doesn’t work out,” Hamish shrugged, “I doubt you want to push things in the community showers where somebody else could walk in either.”

Chameleon’s eyes widened and his skin crawled with a multitude of warm colors. He stood stock still as he stared back at Hamish. He said nothing as he remained a statue.

“Did you…forget something?” Hamish guessed, peering at Chameleon curiously.

“I um…” Chameleon turned his head to glance towards the doorway that had no door, “I didn’t think this through.”

Hamish chortled quietly, “Go get dressed.”

“Right,” Chameleon backed out of the water and quickly grabbed a towel. He hastily dried off, while at the same time trying to dress.

Hamish watched, slightly amused and thinking about how he could pull those clothes off with his own hands. It could be rather fun, he thought. He pondered peeling off each piece and touching Chameleon gently with his hands.

Without a moment to waste, Hamish turned off the water. He took the towel from Chameleon to dry off. He hurried to the door, waiting for Chameleon to join him. When the man did join him, he disappeared with his colors.

“Um…I can’t see you,” Hamish informed him.

“I know…just…head to my room,” Chameleon whispered.

Hamish could hear the clip of the man’s shoes, “But wait!”

“Come on,” Chameleon urged him, “I won’t be far.”

Hamish started down the hallway and followed the quiet footsteps to Chameleon’s room. He was focusing on following along with Chameleon without giving away the man’s position, when a new set of footsteps came down the hall.

He turned his attention to an adjacent hall as the Medic approached him. The man came slowly to a halt, glaring down at him silently. Hamish felt his stomach slowly sink as he remembered what had occurred the day before.

“Did you just wake?” the Medic spoke haughtily.

“No I just showered,” Hamish replied sharply.

“Same thing,” the Medic shrugged, “You woke and just showered.”

Hamish frowned at him, but when he realized the man was not about to walk away, he said, “Did you want something?”

“Well, I was wondering if you were willing to cooperate in the testing for the program that funds your stay here,” the Medic responded.

Hamish cleared his throat, buying himself a moment to think. He could not tell the Medic off, since that would result in needing a reason not to go to the infirmary with him. He was not sure he could handle coming up with a lie to cover for the fact that he was going with Chameleon to do the horizontal dance.

He stiffened, trying to decide what to do. He did not want to stiff Chameleon right in front of him. Though he was sure the man would understand and appreciate that he was covering for both of them.

“Are you still acting like yesterday?” the Medic inquired with a spiteful tone, “I would have thought a night of drinking might have changed your attitude.”

“My attitude?” Hamish scoffed.

“Eventually something has to give,” the Medic went on without missing a beat, “Either I turn in the results of your testing or you’re going to be-”

Suddenly, the Spy appeared out of nowhere, spooking the Medic. The man stumbled, fumbling for his glasses as he recovered from the fright. He took a moment to breathe as he looked Chameleon Spy in the face.

“You scared me!” the Medic exclaimed.

“Serves you right! You…you…you arrogant swine!” Chameleon raised his voice.

Hamish stiffened. He could not speak. There was nothing he could think of to properly say. He was not sure how to convey how he felt in this moment. He was mostly shocked at Chameleon for reacting this way at his opportunity for sex being taken. He never seemed like the type to react like this when unnecessary.

“W-what right do you have to call me that?!” the Medic scoffed.

“Don’t stand there with your bleeding bias acting as if you haven’t forgiven more than half of the men here for not testing for months at a time!” Chameleon spat.

“What? Do you want me to test them all?” the Medic asked.

“No,” Chameleon gave him an unamused glare, “I want you to wipe the words at the end of that threat from your tongue! I don’t care what your relations may have been, but just because of what you saw, does not mean you may retaliate.”

“What? I don’t know what…you…I don’t…” the Medic fished for something to say that did not have his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. And we have discussed this before!” Chameleon pointed angrily at the ground. He sounded so infuriated and impassioned at the same time. “Holding onto old feelings and refusing to move on is disgusting!”

The Medic had moisture in his eyes, “Just because _you_ can suppress emotions, does not mean everybody can!”

“Suppression is not the same as disguising,” the Spy gave him a disgusted look, “And you agreed to remain professional. How _dare_ you… If you had any dignity left, you would turn around and leave!”

The Medic was clearly overwhelmed, with a tear falling from his eye. His breathing was shaky and almost unsure. “But…why?” the man breathed.

“Why?” Chameleon narrowed his eyes, leaning back on his heels as he looked at Medic as if looking at something hideous.

“Why…” the Medic gestured vaguely before he managed to finally gestured to Hamish, “Why him? Why this? Why-” He was cut off by the surprise of being smacked in the jaw with a full force punch.

Hamish winced as he watched Medic stumble and fall to the ground, one hand clutching his jaw. He was still unable to speak. He was unable to move. He was unable to do anything. Even as it began to occur to him that he was being insulted by the Medic, he found himself unable to respond to the situation.

“Don’t you fucking dare question my relationship with Hamish,” Chameleon Spy shook a finger at the Medic, “You have no fucking right to act so fucking entitled. That is none of your business! It is mine and Hamish’s to worry about. You…you just stick with your own broken and bitter love life!”

“I…how can you say that?” Medic got carefully to his feet and looked at the Spy with teary eyes, “How can you just say that to me?”

“Because you’ve been nothing but bitter about everything!” the Chameleon was roaring with rage, “You think your life is so hard? You think it’s so rough that you see somebody else have happiness? Imagine being BROKEN! Imagine being ripped apart and put together in such a way that pleases somebody else! Imagine that! And imagine some entitled idiot trying to dictate what you should do with your life based on his own preferences! Ridiculous!”

“That’s ridiculous! I would never do such a thing!” the Medic raised his voice in turn.

“That is what you are doing now! That is what you are trying to do by questioning my choices!” Chameleon shouted at him.

“Fine,” the Medic’s voice finally lowered, “You want…that…so badly…have it.”

Chameleon huffed, the emotional strain visibly releasing the tenseness in his muscles, “This is why. This…this behavior. The way you talk. The way you act. You think you’re so much better than the men that hurt us, but you’re just like them.”

“I am not like them!” the Medic suddenly shouted.

“You’ve done everything and said everything they would say to justify themselves in what they’ve done,” Chameleon’s voice was quiet yet stern.

Chameleon turned and started down the hallway. Hamish’s muscles ached as soon as he moved them. He had not realized that he had been a tense statue. His body had not moved for so long. Now he was finally able to move and get away from what now drove a stinging sensation into his eye. He touched his eye as his throat started to burn.

He tried to keep moving forward, but eventually it became hard to do that. He had to put a hand on the floor, bending under weight that he did not feel before. Suddenly, his body shook and he could not stop it. His body felt weak and unstable. He felt incapacitated as his body gave away to the growing sensation.

“Hamish?” Chameleon approached him and kneeled down to his level. A hand gently touched his shoulder. “Hamish, are you alright?”

He shook his head slowly. He could not speak. There was something stopping him. His throat was catching him, with the trembling trapping him. He could not stop the warm liquid pouring down his cheeks.

“Come on,” arms shifted him, adjusting and pulling him. They lifted him and pulled him into an embrace. In the careful care of Chameleon’s arms, he was carried the rest of the way.


End file.
